


cataclysm

by plumsauce



Category: Mystic Messenger (Video Game)
Genre: ?!?!, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Domestic, Angst, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Fluff, Living Together, M/M, Mystic Messenger Two Year Anniversary, Reader Is Not Main Character (Mystic Messenger), Roommates, Slow Burn, Swearing, maybe who knows, maybe who knows either certainly not me, rfa squad i love it, wow is that a tag sorry mc doesn't exist lol
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-10
Updated: 2018-08-16
Packaged: 2019-06-07 20:03:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 20,411
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15226851
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/plumsauce/pseuds/plumsauce
Summary: Cataclysm ˈkatəˌklɪz(ə): a large-scale and violent event in the natural worldZen is stuck, against his will, with an equally unwilling (and ungrateful!) guest. His life is such a mess.Or: Extenuating Circumstances mean that one Jumin Han ends up in Zen's apartment.Seven days aren't enough to fall in love.





	1. I

Zen wakes up bright and early, feeling refreshed despite the fact that yesterday’s rehearsal lasted well into the small hours of the morning. Which like, in retrospect, should've been enough of a warning that his day was about to go to shit very soon.

 

He's just coming out of his post-morning-jog shower when the doorbell rings, the theme of some cheesy anime echoing obnoxiously through his sparse living room. Rolling his eyes - it's technically his fault for agreeing to let Seven rig up a new security system - Zen tugs his shorts on before trudging over. It's probably the delivery guy, or the mailman, or if he's particularly unlucky, his elderly neighbor coming to tell him off for making so much noise when people are still asleep. And, hey, it’s not his fault that someone left their trash near his porch. It’s not really his fault either that he tripped over it on his way out, in the same way he can't be blamed for swearing in retaliation. Loudly. At three in the morning.

 

...Okay, maybe he kind of deserves it.

 

He's in the midst of wringing a long, utterly insincere apology out of his ass when he actually opens the door and properly sees who’s on the other side.

 

“Ah,” Jumin Han says, a gloved hand poised to press the doorbell again.

 

Zen shuts the door.

 

He walks back to the toilet, closing the door behind him very calmly. He settles against the wall to tap out a message to Seven and fights back the urge to scream into his fist.

 

[07:17] **ZEN** : LUCIEL CHOI  
[07:18] **ZEN** : I SWEAR TO GOD  
[07:18] **ZEN** : I WILL GO TO UR HOUSE  
[07:18] **ZEN** : CONFISCATE ALL UR PRECIOUS HONEY BUDDHA CHIPS  
[07:18] **ZEN** : AND MAKE YOU WATCH AS I FEED THEM TO THE PIGEONS

 

Zen stays where he is for what feels like an eternity, hunched over behind the toilet cabinet and praying to every god above that Seven is still awake, all whilst keeping an eye fixed on Jumin through the tiny window near the shower. He doesn't even have the willpower to carry through on his threat; at this point he just wants Seven to reply so he knows he’s not trapped in some kind of personal hell.

 

His phone pings after the most painful eight minutes of his twenty-seven years in existence, and Zen fumbles with it briefly before managing to open his texts.

 

[07:26] **707** : ???!!!!  
[07:26] **707** : ehhhhhh?!?!  
[07:26] **707** : is this about the cat wine commercial that i definitely did NOT sign u up for ( ´д` ;)  
[07:26] **707** : (next saturday, 11am @ c&r ent. studio 3 pls don't be late!!)

  
[07:27] **ZEN** : No!!!

...

[07:30] **ZEN** : wait  
[07:33] **ZEN** : you WHAT?!  
[07:34] **707** : have fun!! remember to take ur meds before shooting starts ;^)

...

[07:37] **ZEN** : Don’t think I’ve forgotten about this!  
[07:38] **ZEN** : but nO, I was going to ask you  
[07:38] **ZEN** : WHY THE FUCK IS JUMIN HAN OUTSIDE MY HOUSE!!!!  
[07:38] **707** : oh  
[07:38] **707** : ohhhh  
[07:38] **707** : why indeed ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)  
[07:39] **ZEN** : Don’t test me.  
[07:39] **707** : lmao jk jk! it's not even my fault this time!!! i swear on elly’s maidenly virtue ⁎⁍̴̆Ɛ⁍̴̆⁎  
[07:39] **ZEN** : I don't think you’re in the position to say that  
[07:39] **707** : tru  
[07:39] **707** : anyways just check the gc if u haven't alr  
[07:40] **707** : it was all jaehees idea  
[07:40] **707** : well as much as id love to keep talking, duty calls!  
[07:40] **707** : Defender of Justice 707, signing off!

 

Zen rolls his eyes but brings up the messenger app anyways. Sure enough, the flashing icon tells him that there’s an unopened group chat, and he glances over the messages with a sinking feeling in his stomach.

 

[00:38] **Mr Han’s predicament**  
…

  
**Jaehee** **Kang** : Zen, I know it's not ideal, but your place is probably the best option, since V is currently uncontactable, Yoosung lives on campus, I have to deal with company matters and Seven can barely be trusted to take care of himself as it is. I know it's a lot to ask, but…

 

Zen stares at the message, stubbornly willing it to dissociate into the void, until the screen eventually turns off and he accepts his fate. Of all people, he wouldn't expect Jaehee to do this to him. Sweet, hard-working Jaehee, who watches all his musicals and owns every piece of his limited edition merchandise. (Oh, he knows what she does in her free time. Seven keeps him posted.)

 

He feels betrayed.

 

Either way, it takes about two seconds for Zen’s guilty complex to kick in. He _did_ just slam a door in Jumin Han’s face after all, and while there’s no denying that the bastard deserves it, Mr Trust Fund is going through a period of (relative) hardship for the first time in his cushy life. Plus it's freezing outside, and Zen still has some basic human decency left in him. (That and he's kind of scared of Jaehee, self-proclaimed #1 fan or not.)

 

 _Ugh_.

 

Reluctantly, he drags his feet to the door with the dread of a man walking to his own death, and opens it again.

 

Huh. There's no one there.

 

“Good morning. I assume you've seen my message?” The low tenor of Jumin’s voice says from somewhere near his ear. Zen squawks and whirls around, and sure enough, the person he least wants to see in his life currently is leaning lightly on the wall behind him.

 

“ _Screw_ you,” Zen says, once he convinces his body that he's not going to get jumped by a serial killer on his own bloody doorstep. Jumin stares at him impassively just long enough to kick off his flight or fight responses again, though, so Zen ignores the blood rushing to his face and rolls his eyes.

 

“Yeah, I checked the group chat.” He almost considers apologising for slamming the door on Jumin (keyword being _almost_ ) before he decides it’s not worth it, and the sacrifice he's undertaken to house Jumin Han offsets his rudeness anyways.

 

“Are you going to come in or what. Actually, you can just stay there for the rest of the week. Not that I care.”

 

Jumin lets out a controlled breath from his nose. Zen imagines the older man is probably praying to God for patience lest he leap over and murder Zen in his own home.

 

_Asking you for a massive favour through his assistant, then acting like he’s entitled to it. Classic Jumin Han._

 

Jumin eventually does lug his bags in across the threshold, after one last mournful look at the sky for patience. Zen couldn't care less.

 

In the end, however, they can only ignore each other for so long. Zen is the first to break (he hates dealing with extended periods of awkward silence. Even when he's alone at home he makes sure to keep up some kind of running commentary of his life. Silence reminds him of oppression, of his childhood, when he was trapped, mute, weighed down by insecurity and bitterness and the heavy weight of expectation. He doesn't like thinking about it, even with a distance of a decade, so he doesn't.)

 

“Soooo…Jaehee said you had extenuating circumstances? You finally found a problem that you can't solve by throwing money at it?”

 

Trust Fund kid’s face twists, features going hard and smooth, like carved marble instead of his usual blank bitchiness. It means he's really pissed off, and Zen probably just fucked up big time.

 

“My father and I are having a, ah, _disagreement_ on certain issues that are fundamental to each of our beliefs. Obviously, neither of us are willing to compromise so…” Jumin throws his arms up carelessly. But it's really bothering him, going by the defeated slump of his shoulders and the tired lines of his face.

 

“Oh.” For awhile, silence reigns again. The pregnant pause goes and spawns many other little pauses so the overall effect is an atmosphere of stilted awkwardness.

 

“M’sorry.” Zen tries to say after a long and supremely uncomfortable moment, at the same time Jumin opens his mouth to speak. Both of them pause, startled.

 

“Uh...you go…” More awkward silence. Some vaguely encouraging hand gestures in Jumin’s direction.

 

_God, we’re such a mess. How the hell am I going to live with him for two weeks?_

 

* * *

 

It's a Sunday but Jumin leaves after dropping his stuff. He has some work things to sort out, was what he was trying to say before Zen steamrolled over him with his botched apology. He watches Jumin’s ride pull out of the parking lot, a sleek black sedan that probably costs more than the entire block combined, until it rounds the bend and Zen is left staring somewhere into the middle distance, thinking about the Injustice in the world. He doesn't notice the sound of approaching footfalls before it's too late.

 

“Waiting for someone?” _Damnit_. Zen forces a smile onto his face and starts to greet his neighbor but the elderly man waves his shoddy attempt at politeness off, shaking his head.

 

“Ah, I remember when I was younger...those were good times. When I was your age - ” he starts. Zen scrambles to make up an excuse to deflect the man but its like trying hold off an avalanche with your bare hands, so he goes with the tried and tested “Is something burning? I must've left the toaster on!” (He doesn't even _own_ a toaster. And they say drama school won't help you in real life) before fleeing back to the safety of his apartment to marinate in misery.

 

After that close call ( _too_ _close_ ) Zen putters around the kitchenette for a bit, hunting for some kind of sustenance, but his elbow bumps into one of the leather overnight bags sitting on the counter as he's trying to select the cleanest mug in the sink to drink from.

 

Well. He doesn't quite know how it happened (easy question: against his will), but somehow he’s stuck with Jumin Han for a roommate. Zen hates that guy with a burning passion, because he doesn't do things half-assed. His hatred, however, has always manifested itself as a weird competitive desire to one-up Jumin at every opportunity (which isn't actually that weird if he stops to think about it) and the more he ruminates, the more an idea begins to solidify in his mind.

 

_I’m going to make it the best damn apartment that Trust Fund Kid’s ever lived in. And then when he leaves he’ll have to live with the knowledge that my commoner lifestyle is better than his._

 

“Zen, you're such a genius!” He coos, and springs up with renewed vigor. He also manages to topple the steadily growing heap of beer cans and empty ramyeon packets that he’s been too busy (lazy) to throw out for awhile now, and they clatter pitifully to the ground.

 

...Well, that’s as good a place as any to start.

 

* * *

 

The apartment is very nearly spotless when Jumin rings his doorbell again.

 

“Yeah, yeah I’m coming!” Man, he really needs to find out how to get rid of that stupid anime jingle. The problem is that it's so annoyingly _catchy_ that it even gets stuck in his head sometimes. It's always a bad day for everyone whenever he can't stop humming it backstage.

 

It's freezing outside when he goes to open the door for Jumin, the frozen winter sky a deep indigo. He didn't notice it earlier, but the other is not in one of his pretentious pinstriped suits for once, bundled up instead in a thick woolen coat and a sleek grey scarf that somehow manage to radiate class. Jumin’s hair looks more ruffled than usual too, dark strands mussed and poking out of their usual elegant sweeps. Not like he spends a lot of time noticing things like Jumin Han’s clothes or Jumin Han’s hair. It just... _pisses_ _him_ _off_ , that's all!

 

“How long are you going to stare at me for,” Jumin says flatly, gracefully tapping the snow off his shoes onto the doormat before brushing past Zen and into the warmth of the apartment. Zen doesn't realise he'd been staring, mouth agape, until he gets called out and Jumin rolls his stupid pretty grey eyes, whapping him lightly on the shoulder on his way in.

 

“I took the liberty to buy some dinner,” the other man’s voice is slightly muffled from the kitchen, but Zen can hear it and the vague shuffling of paper on his counter. “One of my subordinates said that this is a very popular combination but I wouldn't know…” Jumin trails off suddenly, uncertain.

 

“Because you've never eaten like a commoner?” snorts Zen as he pads over to inspect their spoils, “Hell yeah, chicken!”

 

He decides not to comment on the fact that he recognises the brand logo as one of those posh, upmarket restaurants in the better part of town, that caters exclusively to rich housewives for when they need to meet up for high tea to gossip but the housekeeper is back visiting their hometown so they need to appease the children with the prospect of fried chicken. (All organic, of course. _Hell_ , the beer even comes in glass bottles. Rich people.)

 

Zen can't really be picky since Jumin did just buy him dinner. (Although agreeing to put up with the other for a week out of the goodness of his heart probably tips the karmic balance in his favour anyways. He deserves that juicy fried chicken for his troubles.)

 

“...I was going to say fast food...” Jumin is delightfully awkward in that stoic, deadpan way of his, and Zen feels like he probably shouldn't be getting a kick out of seeing the other suffer. Eventually though, his hunger wins out so he grabs a bottle opener and nudges Jumin over to the couch.

 

* * *

 

One thing good that came out of Seven’s subjugation of his technology (apart from the time the TV suddenly burst into static and his toaster started playing the theme to the Ring softly, so he _screamed_ and hit it with a frying pan and yeah, that's why he doesn't own a toaster anymore) is the cable TV. Hundreds of channels at his fingertips, for free. Life is good.

 

“You've never seen _Walking_ _Man_?” Zen yells, bursting out of his pile of cushions with righteous fury. “But it's such a classic!”

 

Jumin looks vaguely stunned, like someone’s flicked him between the eyes, before shrugging and admitting, “Well, the channel it's on _is_ owned by JBS Group. The Director and my father had some...differences back in the day,” he elaborates at Zen’s glazed look.

 

 _Join_ _the_ _club_ , is what Zen nearly says, but he swallows it back because that’s kind of an dick move, and Jumin hasn't done anything too offensive today besides existing. Besides, Zen knows how much it fucking _rankles_ to talk about family issues, based on personal experience. He can respect that.

 

“Don't worry, I sure as hell am not paying for these channels. Wouldn't want their share prices to increase or whatever. Now are you going to eat?” He mumbles, fixing his gaze determinedly at the screen. The penalty for this round is particularly vicious, he notes absently as the host explains the rules with a healthy dose of melodrama. Zen would make such a good host.

 

The sound of quiet crunching starts up. Zen discretely sneaks a glance at the other man. 

 

Maybe it's the tiny pout of concentration and morbid fascination clear on his face, or the fact that Jumin is the most dishevelled that he's seen him (including the time two years ago when the bastard showed up to the party pretending to be cold sober even though he was smashed on the wine which technically was for the guests) - with his blazer slug haphazardously over the upholstery, tie loosened and the top button of his dress shirt undone, grease stains on his fingertips and lips.

 

Either way, for some inexplicable reason, his traitorous heart skips a beat.

 

Zen continues watching as Jumin snorts lightly and smirks at the exaggerated captions and offended shouts on the TV. He watches, holding his breath as Jumin breaks out in light chuckles when some unfortunate celebrity gets raw eggs mashed into her hair.

 

_Maybe, he thinks, this whole living together thing will work out just fine._

 

…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi stranger  
> \- honestly i just went on thesaurus and chose a random word for the title but it FITS THE THEME bc 1) potential for cat puns 2) zen's life is a mess 3) it sounds cooler than catastrophe so there you have it
> 
> \- watch me try to avoid copyright, i say as I write fanfiction. unfortunately, Skedaddling Man didnt quite have the same ring to it 
> 
> \- I WASNT GONNA POST IT UNTIL I HAD LIKE 3 CHAPTERS WRITTEN AT LEAST bc im a Responsible Adult™ but i saw a tweet about mm’s 2 year anniversary so,,,,sorry 
> 
> \- jesus these paragraphs are l o n g
> 
> it's 2am im going to bed thank you for making it this far and hopefully it isn't slow burn as in slow bc i forget to update


	2. II

_Maybe_ , he thinks, _this whole living together thing will work out just fine._

 

Until of course, the fifth programme ends as midnight rolls around and it’s time to sleep. Zen doesn’t really know what to do with himself (it's his first time having a guest over since middle school, so sue him) and from the looks of his awkward lingering, neither does Jumin. But because he's a Good Host, Zen shrugs and takes initiative, offering to take the couch before Jumin can say anything. He gathers their empty bottles and cartons and prods the other into his bedroom before waving vaguely at the bathroom, and goes to set up the couch to sleep on.

 

He's languishing on the sagging fabric of the upholstery with mask spread across his face when his phone pings from the coffee table, the screen lighting up with a flood of messages.

 

[00:48] **Jumin’s dilemma**

 **Jumin Han** _has joined the chat_

 **Jaehee Kang** _has joined the chat_

 **707** _has joined the chat_

 

 **Jumin Han:** I am in dire need of assistance.

 **707:** _[shocked]_

 **Jaehee Kang:** Mr Han!

 **Jaehee Kang:** Is everything alright?

 **Jumin Han:** Oh, Assistant Kang.

 **Jumin Han:** Glad you're here

 **Jumin Han:** _[cat]_

 **707:** what happened to my favourite cat daddy _(┐「ε:)_

 **Jumin Han** _[Attached an image]_

 **Jumin Han:** Which face wash am I supposed to use?

 **Jumin Han:** _[confused]_

 **707: @ZEN** EXPOSEDDDDD

 **707:** HAHAHA jumin still sucks at taking pictures tho

 **Jaehee Kang:** …

 **Yoosung★** _has joined the chat_

 **Yoosung★:** Ehhhh???

 **Yoosung★:** _[confused]_

 **Yoosung★:** But Zen-Hyung doesn't use any face products?

 **Yoosung★:** He was born with perfect skin…?

 **Yoosung★:** _[confused]_

 **Jaehee Kang:** _[sigh]_

 **Jaehee Kang:** Yoosung, go to bed.

 **707:** lololol so cute

 **ZEN** _has joined the chat_

 **ZEN:** THEYRE FROM THE FANS

 **ZEN:** _[angry]_

 **ZEN:** _[angry]_

 **ZEN:** _[angry]_

 **Jumin Han:** _[Attached an image]_

 **Jumin Han:** This one has been used though?

 **ZEN:**?????!!!!!

 

“ _Who the fuck told you to look through my stuff?”_ Zen yells, leaping off the couch and sprinting to the bathroom to give Jumin a piece of his mind.

 

 **ZEN** _has left the chat_

 **Jumin Han:** Ah

 **Jumin Han:** He’s mad at me

 **Jumin Han:** _[cat]_

 **707:** omg

 **Jaehee Kang:** ………..

 **Jaehee Kang:** If that’s all, I'm going to bed.

 **Jaehee Kang:** Try not to tease Zen too much,,,

 **Yoosung★:** Bye Jaehee!

 **Jaehee Kang: @Yoosung★** Don’t stay up too late

 **Yoosung★:** (*⁰▿⁰*)

 **Jaehee Kang** _has left the chat_

 **707:** awwww she left :^(

 **707: @Jumin Han** r u dead yet lol

 **Yoosung★:** Dont be mean Seven

 **707:** _[confused]_

 **707:** idk what u mean

 

“ASSHOLE!” Zen screeches out a war cry, and the bathroom door goes flying under his socked foot.

 

Jumin Han, the fucker, looks entirely unfazed from where he's inspecting Zen’s sink cupboard. Red eyes meet mirthful grey, and Jumin has the audacity to say, “I like your face mask,” before lifting his phone to Zen’s face.

 

The flash goes off. Zen’s mouth falls open in a wordless scream.

 

Jumin is so _dead_.

 

 **Jumin Han** _[Attached an image]_

 **Jumin Han:** Haha

 **707:** lololol

 **707:** zen’s face is priceless

 

The shock lasts about half a second more before Zen tackles the smug bastard, his hands finding the other’s phone and confiscating the offending device.

 

“Asshole, you can laugh all you want but _I’m_ not the one wearing a cat-print shirt with silk pants!”

 

Zen fumbles for a bit before he manages to aim the camera. _Snap_ , the shutter clicks and he sends the image off without checking it.

 

 **Jumin Han** _[Attached an image]_

 **Jumin Han:** hbbdiOowpz

 **Jumin Han:** nncskkloq

 **Yoosung★:** （╹◡╹?）

 **Jumin Han:** yiff

 **Jumin Han:** qwetxp

 **Jumin Han:** y if

 **Jumin Han:** k

 **Jumin Han:**      F

 **Jumin Han** _has left the chat_

 

* * *

 

“Oh my god, what are you doing - aghhh!” He yells, twisting around in Jumin’s grip and lifting the phone over his head to avoid the older man’s searching hands.

 

Jumin grunts, smirking, before he prises the mobile out of Zen’s clammy hands and exits the chat before Zen can send more incriminating messages and confuse Yoosung even more (his reactions are so cute - the youngest indeed).

 

“Got you - aack!” Jumin cringes and slackens his grip around Zen’s forearms when something warm and damp lands on his elbow. “Did you just _lick me_?”

 

He sounds genuinely offended.

 

“Revenge!” Zen cackles loudly, tackling Jumin by the waist.

 

“Let go of me!”

 

“You started it, bastard!”

 

“Did _not_.”

 

“Well, serves you right for provoking me!”

 

Zen pushes them, and they go tumbling in a flurry of limbs and silk. For a while, the room is filled with the sounds of their wrestling and the occasional curse. Jumin’s phone slips out of the fray, skittering across the hardwood flooring, but they keep going anyways, neither willing to concede first.

 

“SHUT UP!” comes a scream. They both go still, stunned into silence, before Zen realises it's probably the neighbour again.

 

“GET A FUCKING ROOM!” the voice comes again.

 

He takes a deep breath for calm, but the adrenaline from their roughhousing is still in his system, his blood pumping hot and fast.

 

So it's entirely by impulse that he hollers back, “ _We’ve_ _already got one, asshole!”_ Silence, then the sound of a door slamming shut. Heh. They had it coming.

 

“Pfft,” Jumin snorts lightly, so in a brief moment of solidarity against the neighbor, Zen flashes a cocky smirk and arches a haughty brow.

 

Jumin inhales sharply, his features cracking into a grin before he abruptly breaks out into mirthful laughter.

 

_Oh._

 

Zen feels rather than hears the man’s soft chuckles, the muscles of his abdomen vibrating under Zen’s thighs and - _oh wow wait back up._

 

He freezes, realising the position they're in.

 

Jumin’s head is flung back, soft curls flattened against the wood with a dainty hand held up to his mouth to catch his laughter. There's still a splotch of toothpaste at the corner of his lips and unthinkingly, Zen reaches over to brush it off.

 

The hand is resting casually against Zen’s waist - _when the hell did that happen?! -_ freezes at the same time his gaze trails down to take in the fact that the older man’s shirt is creased and riding up the smooth expanse of his abdomen which _Zen is straddling and_ -

 

“ _AAAAAHHH!”_ he shrieks, jerking away as if he just got burned, as if the heat of the firm muscles under Jumin’s skin is something hot and potent and _oh my god_ _don't think about that noooooo!_

 

 _You like him_ , whispers the voice at the back of his head.

 

“Nooooooo,” he groans, whining into his hands. He slides down against the bathroom door for the nth time that day, butt thumping solidly on the floor and probably jarring his spleen out of alignment in the process, but at this point he cannot bring himself to care because _that was the most embarrassing day of my life_.

 

It was all going so well, too! Once the initial awkwardness died a natural death, Zen was actually enjoying himself. The other’s quiet snark, all dark smirks and sharp wit - it's the most company he's had in awhile now. And then his stupid horny teenage self had to surface from the depths of his subconscious and now Jumin was going to hate him more than usual and the whole RFA would know about his debauchery and Zen would never walk in the daylight again.

 

He feels his breaths coming faster, the entirety of his face and ears boiling, legs shaking weakly from leftover adrenaline. Briefly, he wonders if it's possible to die from shame.

 

He stays there, braced against the door and wallowing in self-pity until a light rapping of knuckles sound behind him.

 

“I, uh, hate to disturb but I...need to wash my face…” Jumin sounds uncertain and vaguely flustered, which somehow gives Zen enough courage to drag himself up and unlock the door.

 

Jumin’s hand is raised to knock again. Slate-grey eyes meet his own, eyebrows furrowing in surprise. Jumin’s face is flushed prettily, a light dusting of pink across his high cheekbones and curling down into the neck of his tee.

 

“A-ah,” he starts, blinking owlishly, but Zen pushes past him and flees to the couch because he can't bear to hold Jumin’s gaze. He buries his face into linen sheets, and there's a long moment of stillness until Jumin finally slips into the bathroom.

 

Zen falls asleep to the sound of running water. He almost thinks he sees bright eyes and feels warm lips pressing against his forehead before he slips into the darkness.

 

* * *

 

 **6 Unread Messages** from **Jumin’s dilemma**

[01:19]

 **707:** omg

 **707:** this is the best day of my life

 **707:** i wonder how much i can sell these pics for

 **707:** brb lol

 **707** _has left the chat_

 **Yoosung★:** Wha

 **Yoosung★:** Nevermind,,,,,

 **Yoosung★** _has left the chat_

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 'slow burn' i said  
> tbf this chapter wasnt supposed to happen at all,,,not according to keikaku it wrote itself but at the same time writing it was like pulling teeth which is why its only like 1.2k lmao ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯ 
> 
> thanks for reading anyways :^)


	3. III

He sleeps fitfully, tossing and turning around to get comfy. It’s almost a blessing when Zen wakes up stretching and rubbing the gunk from the corners of his eyes. The air is warm and heavy with the smell of butter, which just makes him even hungrier, so he throws off the covers and pads to the kitchen groggily.

 

“Why is your fridge so empty? This is unacceptable, you can’t live on beer and ramyeon forever,” Jumin chides, moving around the kitchen as if he owns it.  

 

The sight of Jumin in _his_ kitchen, peering gravely into the cupboards as a pot of something bubbles merrily away on the stove is so absurd, Zen isn't sure he even wants to laugh. He settles for a snort, brushing past the other to pour himself a glass of water.

 

“We can't all have personal chefs to tend to our needs.” Zen puts his cup in the sink and Jumin clicks his tongue in annoyance.

 

“‘Sides, I don't get what you're being so anal over, man. I'm still alive aren't I?”

 

He gets a disapproving look for his efforts. “Nutrition isn't a _joke_ , Zen.”

 

“Yeah, yeah,” Zen waves his hand dismissively, draping himself over the counter and propping his chin in his hand. “What’re you making anyways?”

 

Is it possible to fall asleep standing up? He'll have to find out.

 

“Go back to sleep if you're so tired. I'll wake you up when it's ready,” Jumin’s voice is muffled from where he's rummaging around the cupboards. “Why isn't there sugar in this house?”

 

He's about to tell Jumin to shove it, but he's interrupted by a jaw-cracking yawn, so Zen shuffles away in silence to collapse back into the sofa.

 

* * *

 

Ten minutes later and he's woken up by the clattering of pans and cutlery. Zen watches, bleary eyed, as Jumin sets the table and puts two steaming plates down.

 

“Breakfast is ready. I made strawberry pancakes.”

 

Pretentious bastard. If it were up to Zen, he'd just be eating from a takeout container with a plastic fork.

 

He eyes his plate. The pancakes look like the jiggly ones they sell in those cute, slightly out of the way cafes that people go to anyways for the experience. Zen’s surprised Jumin can actually hold his own in the kitchen considering he probably had maids falling over him since birth. But they _do_ smell good and it can't hurt to have some food before work…

 

“Hey, these aren't bad!” Zen exclaims.

 

Jumin chews slowly and raises his eyebrows in smug satisfaction. Then Zen’s sluggish morning brain kicks into gear.

 

“Why’re you being so nice to me anyways?”

 

A heavy sigh. “My parents didn't raise me to be a savage. Well, I have to go to work now. Leave the dishes in the sink when you're done,” Jumin pats his mouth delicately with a tissue, pushing back on his chair and collecting his things. Zen mumbles a goodbye and continues eating.

 

The door slams, followed by the hum of an engine as Jumin’s driver starts the car up and Zen is left to his own thoughts. He's just polishing off the pancakes (and feeling more or less human again) when his phone bleeps so he checks it in a bid to stay awake.

 

[08:32] **Chocolate milk**

**Yoosung★** _has joined the chat_

**ZEN** _has joined the chat_

**Yoosung★:** Hyung!

**Yoosung★:** Hyunggggggg T_T

**ZEN:** Yoosung! What's wrong?

**Yoosung★:** All the stores near the dorms ran out of chocolate milk!!!!

**707** _has joined the chat_

**Yoosung★:** Noooooo I’m too young to die ToT

**Yoosung★:** I've never even had a girlfriend ㅠㅠㅠㅠ

**707:** or a boyfriend

**ZEN:** Seven!!! What did you say to my son?!

**Yoosung★:** (´･ω･`?)

**ZEN:** *yoosung

**ZEN:** AUTOCORRECT

**707:** must be hard being a single father

**707:** but not for long ;)

**707:** lololol

**ZEN:** …,,,,,,..

**ZEN** _has left the chat_

 

* * *

**707:** K.O.

**707:** why does everyone always assume it's my fault tho

**Yoosung★:** aaaaaaaaaahhhhhh

**Yoosung★:** _[crying]_

**Yoosung★:** _[crying]_

**707:** chill u’ll be fine if u don't overwork urself

**707:** i gotta go now but don't be late for class

**707** _has left the chat_

**Yoosung★:** (*´꒳`*) bye

**Yoosung★:** WAIT NO COME BACCCCKKK DONT LEAVE ME

**Yoosung★:** (´༎ຶོρ༎ຶོ`)

**Yoosung★:** IF I GO ON LOLOL FOR AN HOUR BEFORE MY FIRST LECTURE STARTS

**Yoosung★:** I WONT FALL ASLEEP

**Yoosung★** _has left the chat_

 

* * *

 

 

All things considered, he's glad to be back at work. He really does enjoy his job. The adrenaline of performing in front of a live audience, the joy in revelling in song and dance, and the bittersweet feeling of accomplishment once the production is over - they're why he gets up in the morning in the first place.

 

Besides, the stage actor life suits him best. Rehearsals start at ten in the morning and usually run until late evening, so it's perfect for his choppy sleep schedule and he can tweak his gym hours to accommodate. He can't imagine people like Jumin and Jaehee, cooped up in a little office for the entire day, hunched over a keyboard or signing stacks of papers.

 

The thought gives him hives.

 

One of the cast members, a man in his mid-thirties, claps him on the back as he’s walking to the door. “Hey, me and some of the guys are going to get some barbecue. Wanna come with?”

 

That sounds great, actually. But then Zen remembers that he didn't tell Jumin where he hides the spare key (under the plant V got him as a housewarming gift/joke because Zen shouldn't ever be trusted to take care of another living thing) and he makes a face. “Nah, I can't today. Gotta be back by - ” it’s nearly seven, so if he factors in peak hour traffic, “ - eight.” That should give him enough time to let Jumin in, get changed and then hit the gym.

 

“Someone waiting at home for you?” The man says with a sly grin, “Next time then.”

 

Zen flails to eject himself from the conversation before he runs to the bus stop two blocks away, swearing as he arrived just as his bus trundles merrily out of the station.

 

_Ah, shit._

 

For sheer lack of productive things to do, Zen checks his phone. He has two missed calls - one from his manager and the other a long string of digits, probably some kind of scam - as well as an email of some landscape pictures from V and, _ah there they are_ , three missed chat rooms. Why are they always so free? Do people even _work_ anymore?

 

[13:02] **It'S a BEAUTIFUL WORLD ♪**

**Yoosung★** _has joined the chat_

**Yoosung★:** ITS BEEN TWELVE WHOLE HOURS

**Yoosung★:** I AM STILL A L I VE

**Yoosung★: @707**!!!!!!!

**Yoosung★:** I WAS SO SCARED

**Yoosung★:** MY HEART WAS BEATING SO FAST

**Yoosung★:** IM NEVER DRINKING SIX CANS OF REDBULL EVER AGAIN

**Yoosung★:** IM SO GLAD TO BE ALIVE

**Jaehee Kang** _has joined the chat_

**Jaehee Kang:** Afternoon, Yoosung

**Yoosung★:** HI JAEHEE

**Yoosung★:** THE SUN IS SHINING

**Yoosung★:** THE BIRDS ARE SINGING

**Yoosung★:** ITS A BEAUTIFUL DAY

**Yoosung★:** WHAT A TIME TO BE ALIVE!!!!!

**Jaehee Kang:**...Did you actually believe what Seven said…?

**Yoosung★:** HUH

**Yoosung★:** _[confused]_

**Yoosung★:** WHAT DO YOU MEAN

**Yoosung★:** THOSE WERE MY MEDICAL RECORDS WERENT THEY?

**Jaehee Kang:** …

**Jaehee Kang:** I don't want to be that person but

**Jaehee Kang:** Did you actually believe that ‘Pass Out Because of Caffeine Syndrome’ was a real condition.

**Yoosung★:** ……………….yes????

**Yoosung★:** It had a Wikipedia page and everything

**Jaehee Kang:** For a veterinary science student

**Jaehee Kang:** You can be so gullible.

**Jaehee Kang** _has left the chat_

**Yoosung★:** Eh?

**Yoosung★:** But it was proven!

**Yoosung★:** With science!

**Yoosung★:** ᕦ(ò_óˇ)ᕤ

**Yoosung★** _has left the chat_

 

Haha. Yoosung is so naive, it feeds right into the dumb blonde stereotype, despite the fact that the kid is actually pretty smart if he tries. 

 

Zen whiles away a good ten minutes, scrolling through the messenger app to distract himself from the cold and the imminent threat of falling asleep on the bench. Eventually his bus rolls up and he shuffles in eagerly on frozen feet, managing to snag a seat towards the back. Given a choice, he'd rather take his bike, but the icy winter roads are treacherous and the congestion is hell on his petrol money.

 

He makes it home in just under forty-five minutes. When the lock clicks open after a minute of fumbling with cold hands, it's to a warm house and the smell of cooking food. _Again_ . Jumin seems to have made it his personal mission to ensure Zen is properly fed and watered, which is silly because they're literally the same age. Zen is a grown-ass man who can take perfectly good care of himself, _thank you very much._ Still, the other man takes his nutrition so seriously, it's creepy and strangely endearing in equal parts.

 

“I'm back,” Zen calls, shucking off his coat and boots.

 

“Oh. Dinner will be ready in five. Go get some rice.” Jumin is in his work clothes with his sleeves rolled up to the elbows. It's probably somewhat of a miracle that the shirt is still pristine and neatly pressed after an entire day’s work and preparing for two meals consisting of bright red sauces.

 

Zen makes a face behind the man’s back. Jumin Han, ordering him around in his own home.

 

The _audacity._

 

They've been fairly civil for the better part of forty-eight hours, but most of that time has been spent sleeping or away from each other (apart from _that_ time last night, but Zen has been trying to purge that huge fiasco from his consciousness since he was awake enough to remember the cause of his lingering mortification) so it's no surprise that he feels his temper beginning to flare.

 

Until, of course, Jumin turns around to find out why he isn't getting the goddamn rice and presumably yell at him about it, giving Zen a front row seat to witness a fashion disaster in the flesh.

 

Over Jumin’s expensive three-piece silk suit that was probably imported from Milan rests a purple, cat-themed apron. It's a sweet little thing, to be fair, all pastel shades of lilac with little pink paw prints dotted around, but it also clashes horribly with the somber pinstripes and solid greys of Jumin’s work attire.

 

It's the best thing he's seen today.

 

He tries to bite his tongue but Zen really can't stop himself from asking, “How much do you like cats, you absolute freak?”

 

Jumin gives him a distasteful look as he walks out of the kitchen to deposit a plateful of food on the table, as if _Zen_ is the furry in the room. “Seven gives me cat print merchandise for my birthday every year. I suppose it's his way of trying to make up for the therapy Elizabeth III needs.”

 

Well, that's that. Seven is such a weird guy sometimes. _Actually, pretty much all my friends are hella weird_ , he thinks, shovelling rice into two mismatched bowls with a considerable improvement in his mood.

 

They finally sit down to eat once Jumin is done having an aneurysm over the crockery. The food doesn't actually _taste_ that bad either, but it's the sight of the misshapen lumps masquerading as vegetables in the stirfry that really cracks him up. (Not like _Zen_ can judge Jumin’s knife skills since he is, after all, a bachelor who relies primarily on booze and ramyeon for sustenance. He does it anyways.)

 

He's got to let the others know. Spread the love, and all that.

 

[19:52] **C** **hef Ramsay would be proud**

**ZEN** _has joined the chat_

**707** _has joined the chat_

**Jaehee Kang** _has joined the chat_

 

**ZEN:** WHAT ARE YOU???? ****

**707:**  AN IDIOT SANDWICH, CHEF! 

**ZEN:** HAHAHAH

**ZEN:** JUMIN CANT COOK LOL

**ZEN** _[Attached an image]_

**Jumin Han** _has joined the chat_

**707:** ,,,,

**707:** ok but he's TRYING HIS BEST LEAVE HIM AL O N E

**ZEN:** ITS TOO FUNNY THOUGH

**ZEN:** ALSO HES WEARING A CAT APRON HAHAHAHAHAHAHAH

**ZEN:** BUT AT THE SAME TIME  I CAN FEEL MY ALLERGIES ACTING UP

**Jumin Han:** I followed the instructions so I fail to see how my food is a problem.

**Jumin Han:** Just because you can’t eat spicy things doesn't mean I can't cook.

**707:** OUCH

**Jaehee Kang:** Forgive me Mr Han, but

**Jaehee Kang:** Perhaps the vegetables should be sliced....a bit more evenly.....

**707:** lies and slander

**707** _changed the subject to_ **#JusticeforJumin**

**707:** rise up against oppression

**Jumin Han:** _[cat]_

**Jumin Han:** Thank you

**707:** anytime ;^)

**707:** anyways where's yoosung my boy

**Jaehee Kang:** I think Yoosung said he was attending the Coffee Club.

**Jaehee Kang:** I told him to learn how to make good coffee so he can brew some for me.

**ZEN:** Oh!

**Jaehee Kang:** _[smile]_

**ZEN:** It's good that kid’s doing something other than gaming for once…!

**ZEN:** They grow up so fast :’)

**707:** …..!!!!!!!

**ZEN:** _[confused]_

**ZEN:** What happened?

**707:** MS VANDERWOOD IS COMING FOR MY ASS BC IVE BEEN SLACKIN G

**707:** GOTTA GO GOTTA GO FAST

**707** _has_ left _the chat_

**Jumin Han:** I don't know about Zen but I'm hungry.

**Jumin Han:** I'll take my leave too then

**Jumin Han** _has left the chat_

**Jaehee Kang:** But still, I can’t imagine Mr Han cooking dinner,,,,

**ZEN:** Yeh it's been a weird day for me too

**Jaehee Kang:** You seem to be handling it alright, all things considered.

**Jaehee Kang:** I know you and Mr Han have your differences

**Jaehee Kang:** For all it’s worth, I'm sorry we didn't have a choice...

**ZEN:** Eh I'll get by

**ZEN:** Somehow

**Jaehee Kang:** That doesn't sound very convincing,,,,

**Jaehee Kang:** But thank you for putting up with this even though you didn't have to…

**Jaehee Kang:** Well, you'd better eat before the food gets cold

**Jaehee Kang:** Mr Han did try his best!

**Jaehee Kang:** I have to deal with some paperwork...

**ZEN:** Yep

**ZEN:** Take care!

**ZEN:** _[smile]_

**Jaehee Kang** _has left the chat_

**ZEN** _has left the chat_

* * *

 

 

When the dishes are done and drying in the rack, Zen breaks the comfortable silence they've settled into.

 

“Thanks for the food, though. I usually just have ramyeon or takeout, so you don't have to, uh...” he trails off, gesturing vaguely at the kitchen.

 

Jumin cocks an eyebrow in his direction.

 

“Don't worry about it. Food is important, after all.”

 

He wants to say something, to scratch the nagging itch of the questions festering at the back of his mind. _What did you and your dad argue over? What did that look last night mean? Why the hell do you even care about me?_

 

But he doesn't have a clue about how to articulate his feelings; the words don't come. Eventually, Jumin gets up and mumbles something about taking a shower, and just like that, the moment passes.

 

Whatever. It's not like he cares. It’s not like that's all he thinks about as he lifts weights in the gym, unseeing eyes staring blankly at his own reflection as his brain stays lost in thought.

 

(It scares him, because Zen thinks he might be in too deep this time.)

 

 

* * *

 

bonus: 

 

[15:36] **down with the bourgeois**

**707** _has joined the chat_

**707:** so i was thinking

**707:** and before some smartass makes a joke i do think about things sometimes

**707:** important things

**707:** like elly

**707:** and the economy

**707:** and that really weird doujin i read the other day

**707:** I DIDNT NEED TO SEE THAT

**707:** THE C ATS

**707:** THEY WERE SO mUSCUlar

**707:** AAH I JUST TRIGGERED MYSELF

**707:** anyways, i was thinking

**707:** so like, if u put zen and jumin together

**707:** won't you get one (1) complete rich boi from those kdramas

**707:** narcissistic daddy’s boy with an unexpected tender and noble side, has some kind of tragic backstory but really just wants to have a simple life with his cat

**707:** wait most of that is just jumin though

**707:** hmmm

**707:** ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯

**707:** it made more sense jn

**707:** maybe it was because i was playing that guy’s route in my dating sim

**707: @Yoosung★** u should give it a try sometime

**707:** it's unexpectedly deep

**707:** like, i don't think i can look at birds the same way again

**Yoosung★** _has joined the chat_

**707:** is it weird that i honest to god would bang a pigeon

**707:** oh nice timing

**Yoosung★:** My brother, born of a low father, is a worthless being. Though he looks noble, his veins flow with filthy, impure blood. I must not associate with those of low birth... because that is what father told me.

**Yoosung★:** SAKUYA

**Yoosung★:** LE BEL

**707:**!!!!!!!!

**Yoosung★:** SHIROGANE!!!!!!

**707:** OMG COMRADE

**Yoosung★:** ･:*+.\\(( °ω° ))/.:+

**707:** HHHHHHH

**707:** DO U FEEL ME THO

**707:** IF U FUSE THEM

**707:** U GET SAKUYA

**707:** THE HAIR IS KIND OF THERE TOO MAYBE

**Yoosung★:** I guess? Jumin-hyung isn't that much of a snob though…?

**707:** fair

**Yoosung★:** …

**Yoosung★:** Seven

**707:** ya?

**Yoosung★:** is this why we’re still single?

**707:** ngl

**707:** ya

**707:** worth it tho

**707:** anything for my 2D waifus

**707:** AND husbands

**707:** i am a man of culture.

**Yoosung★:** I get u

**Yoosung★:** ahhhh gotta go or I’ll be late for club

**Yoosung★:** Nice getting a confirmation of your slightly questionable hobbies! Apart from hacking into government websites and patching up their security for fun!

**Yoosung★:** See u! ( ・∇・)

**707:** byeee

**Yoosung★** _has left the chat_

**707:** “slightly” questionable ur in for a surprise buddy

**707** _has left the chat_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> mostly a filler chapter IM SORRY THIS WAS LATE BC I SPENT THE WHOLE WEEK THINKING ABOUT AN AVATAR AU FOR BNHA bc im a SLUT FOR BNHA 
> 
> that part about the pancakes also just...happened. also seven's questionable doujin (k but its a TRUE STORY) + that part about hatoful boyfriend which i have never actually played,,,, tbh im going about this w/o any concrete plan or anything...just taking life as it comes
> 
> why is seven in every chat room??? stay tuned for more next chapter. 
> 
> thx for still putting up with my bs hahahahaha i have the ending written out already as well :^))))


	4. IV

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> what k drama did this come from

They settle into a sort of weird routine, and just like that, five more days have passed. 

 

Between both of their jobs, Zen and Jumin barely see each other. The theatre crew is rehearsing for the new and improved _Red Hot Jalapeños II_ \- back due to popular demand - featuring even more black humour, an unfairly attractive protagonist (him), even _more_ unnecessary scenes of said protagonist (him) shirtless, and overall being an utter mess. Don't get him wrong, he’s absolutely loves the chaos and the heady rush of being on stage, and he doesn't mind spending late nights in the theatre practicing lines and scribbling last-minute pointers with his fellow actors.

 

But he’s definitely looking forward to the weekend again because Zen needs his beauty sleep. Definitely not because he wants to spend more time lazing around on the couch and bickering with Jumin over some inane thing or the other, a trashy drama playing softly in the background. No sir, not at all.

 

Besides, there is another reason why he’s so eager to get off work for the week. Zen pretends to check out his own reflection in a shop window on his way to the bus stop, not that it's anything out of the ordinary for him. And...yep.

 

He's being followed.

 

She's a cute little thing, all soft velvet dresses with tiny bows and lace everywhere. Brown curls bounce merrily in time with her steps, and her lips jut out into a small pout of concentration. She's fairly young, and looks relatively harmless, but one can never be too safe.

 

Zen keeps half an eye out as he slides into the relative warmth of the bus shelter, pulling out his phone to occupy his hands as he silently observes her in the reflection of the black screen. (Wow, he feels like a spy. He should ask their director if they could please do a spy-themed musical next time?)  The girl continues to hang back, loitering half-obscured by a bush fifty metres away.

 

Ah, being good-looking is such a struggle sometimes.

 

Sighing, he thumbs his phone and the screen comes to life. He figures he should update the chat room, since they're all terrible gossips (or, Seven is a terrible gossip. Zen suspects the rest of his friends on the other hand, might actually care about his well-being), so he brings up the messenger app with deft fingers.

 

[21:03] **How do you tell someone to fuck off but like, politely**

 **ZEN** _has joined the chat_

 **707** _has joined the chat_

 **Yoosung★** _has joined the chat_

 **Jumin Han** _has joined the chat_

 **ZEN:** guys

 **ZEN:** Oh wow it's nearly a full house thanks for all your concern

 **Yoosung★:** Hyung! What's wrong??

 **Jumin Han:** Is someone bothering you?

 **707:** do i need to use my questionable connections again

 **ZEN:** Nah

 **ZEN:** Well

 **ZEN:** Maybe

 **Jumin Han:** Make up your mind.

 **Yoosung★:** ((((；ﾟДﾟ)))))))

 **ZEN:** Like

 **ZEN:** This one chick has been following me for the past week

 **ZEN:** And she’s here again today…

 **ZEN** _[Attached an image]_

 **707: @Jaehee Kang** lol is that u

 **Jaehee Kang** _has joined the chat_

 **Jaehee Kang:** …What do you mean by that.

 **Jaehee Kang:** _[smile]_

 **707:** yikes ok sorry

 **Yoosung★:** That’s so scary!

 **Yoosung★:** Maybe she’s a fan??

 **Jaehee Kang:** Yes, it seems that there are more of these crazy ‘fans’ nowadays who try to harass their idols because they want to be noticed.

 **Jaehee Kang: @ZEN** Please be careful…

 **707:** she looks p scrawny tho

 **707:** u could definitely take her man

 **707:** just be vigilant and remember that SICK combo move i taught u last time

 **ZEN:** When we were playing Street Fighter?

 **707:** that's the one

 **Yoosung★:** haDOuKEN!!!!!

 **Jaehee Kang:** At least pretend to be taking this seriously,,,

 **707:** @ **Jumin Han** ’s been p quiet u ok there ?

 **Jumin Han:**.

 **Jumin Han: @ZEN** I'm sending Driver Kim to pick you up.

 **Jumin Han:** Stay put for another 45 minutes or so.

 **707:** /wolf whistling/

 **707:** /sad titanic flute music/

 **707:** i should figure out how to include audio attachments in this chat room

 **707:** brb lol

 **707** _has left the chat_

 **ZEN:** Dude, it's fine I just got on the bus.

 **ZEN:** And idt she got on

 **Jumin Han:** _[sigh]_

 **Jumin Han:** Fine

 **Jumin Han:** I'll pick you up from the station.

 **Jumin Han:** Text me when you arrive.

 **Jumin Han** _has left the chat_

 **ZEN:**....????

 **ZEN:** What just happened

 **Yoosung★:** ooOoh **@707** u missed it :0

 **Yoosung★:** Seriously though, you be careful, hyung (◞‸◟)

 **Yoosung★:** Get home safe!!

 **Yoosung★:** ah my pizza’s here gotta go

 **Yoosung★** _left the chat_

 **Jaehee Kang:** They’re right, you know.

 **Jaehee Kang:** There's no telling what lengths these sasaeng fans will go to.

 **Jaehee Kang:** I've sent you a link to an article, you should read it.

 **Jaehee Kang:** And let us know once you get home

 **ZEN:** Got it

 **ZEN:** Thanks <3

 **Jaehee Kang:** Don’t mention it

 **Jaehee Kang** _has left the chat_

 **ZEN** _has left the chat_

* * *

 **707** _has joined the chat_

 **707**   _[Attached a file]_ **:** _titanic.mp4_

 **707:** aww everyone’s gone :(

 **707:** darn i was too late

 **707** _has left the chat_

* * *

 

When the bus slows down at his stop, Zen glances around surreptitiously, stepping lightly into the pavement. He can't see anyone or their suspicious black vehicles lurking around, so he figures it’s safe enough to forgo texting Jumin. Zen is, after all, a big, strong twenty-six year old who works out at the gym everyday, and he’s fended for himself for the better part of ten years with no problems. No need to inconvenience anyone over some stalker fan.

 

He manages two blocks before his hair begins to stand on end, and the unwelcome prickle of eyes at his back returns again.

 

 _Maybe it's just a coincidence,_ he tells himself. _You're just being paranoid, leave it alone and it'll go away by itself._

 

It doesn't. If anything, the feeling gets stronger and stronger, until Zen can't take it anymore so he breaks out into a run, and he swears he can almost hear the clacking of heels as his unwanted pursuer scrambles to follow.

 

_Shit. Shit shit shit._

 

His place is just three streets from here. Left, past the convenience store, up the hill then left again, straight past the house with the huskies that swarm at the gate excitedly whenever he passes.

 

He can make it. He can totally make it. He _is going to make it._

 

 _It’s good I make it a point to jog every morning_. The sharp click of footfalls against the asphalt begins to lose its momentum, but Zen is still going strong even as his stalker tires. Encouraged, he fumbles around in his coat pocket for his phone, punching in Jumin’s number one-handed while keeping the pace.  

 

He doesn't expect to hear it ring from just around the bend, but there's no mistaking the pretentious classical music from the Baroque era that perfectly captures the essence of human ‘emotion’ or whatever bullshit Jumin preaches about every time his phone starts to warble that same god-forsaken piece. In fact, the music is getting louder, as if the owner of the phone is getting closer and oh -

 

“Fuck!” He yelps, at the same time someone yells a warning, and the next thing he knows, he's being caught by two strong hands on his shoulders and spun around like the protagonist of some crappy afternoon soap. Unlike the dramas, though, he does end up whacking his head on the wall, and it echoes with a dull _thump._

 

“Owww, what the hell?” Zen blinks a few times to clear the black spots in his vision and he's about to start giving the other person a piece of his mind when, “Wh - Jumin?”

Maybe he hit his head harder than he initially thought. Obviously it's Jumin standing in front of him and staring worriedly at his face, grey eyes searching - bastard must've gotten restless waiting up at home and had come to look for him. Between the adrenaline from his impromptu run and the sharp edge of pain, it's only after a good five seconds or so that he realises he's been gaping dumbly at Jumin’s face the entire time. Which, granted, isn't _really_ his fault, considering the fact that his entire field of vision swims with pale skin and bright eyes and dark hair.

 

The street around them is completely silent, save for the sweet cadences of the seventeenth century blaring on from wherever Jumin’s phone lies abandoned on the frozen concrete.

 

“Shit, are you alright?” Gloved hands move from his shoulders to probe gingerly at the throbbing at the back of his skull, and he nearly winces at the loss of warmth from his shoulders. It's only then he notices how close they're standing; him with his hands braced against the starched fabric of Jumin’s shirt, flush against the wall, a strip of warm heat pulsing like an iron brand where their bodies brush against each other and Jumin’s face is coming closer and closer to his and -

 

_Holy shit._

 

Zen startles, shoving the other man bodily away from him as he wills his heart to calm the fuck down. The stupid organ ignores him completely, racing on as if he's a rabbit or some other inconveniently small mammal and pumping unnecessary amounts of blood to his face and neck. His ears feel so hot they might be glowing in the darkness of the evening. Or maybe they'll spontaneously _combust_ and the flames will consume him and put him out of his misery.

 

He doesn't even _want_ to think how they might look to other people - him, an up-and-coming musical sensation pressed up against the director to one of the largest corporations this side of the world like a horny teenager, standing under the soft orange halo of the street lamps.

 

Jumin blinks a few times, the shadows of his dark eyelashes fanning across his cheekbones ( _like a cat_ , his brain supplies. He tells it to shut up, feeling his nose twitch, and geez, it really feels like his whole being is staging some kind of uprising against his rational mind today.)

 

Zen is the first one to break eye contact. “A...ah. Sorry,” he mumbles, shuffling awkwardly to pick up their phones where they're becoming acquainted with the asphalt underfoot. When he straightens up, Jumin is already turning on his heel.

 

“Let’s go home,” the brunet murmurs, tugging Zen’s wrist like a small child searching for a mother’s touch, “We’ll get takeaway.”

 

Zen nods mutely and lets himself be pulled homewards.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> disclaimer: this is where things start to get a bit patchy bc i havent actually played zens route,,,,ha h a  
> also its been y ea r s since i played jumin's so i honestly cant remember his possessive issues and stuff but its alright everything will fall into place,,, 
> 
> once again thank you for the support! feel free to leave a comment (or dont - idw pressure anyone lol) but honestly just the fact that people are still reading this gives me a heart boner


	5. V

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Zen snaps.

The ten or so minutes it takes for them to get home are enough for Zen’s dumb shock to morph into annoyance. It’s not that hard - it’s been seething underneath his skin for most of the week, an instinctive byproduct of living in close quarters with the man who somehow manages to get on his nerves simply by being himself. Granted, a handful of people know how to push and pull at Zen, which of his frayed nerves to pick at before his admittedly short fuse blows (a certain redheaded menace comes to mind), but Jumin? Bastard routinely tap dances over each and every one of Zen’s goddamn buttons, and doesn’t even have the decency to notice it.

 

Said man is keeping up a steady, one-sided rant in his usual monotone. He's talking about restraining orders or 24/7 security guard or something like that, and Zen’s half-expecting that Jumin will suggest locking him up at home for the rest of his life to _protect_ him.

 

“What the hell, Jumin, I'm not some kind of delicate flower that needs to be put in an ivory tower. I can take care of myself,” he says in reply, taking a deep breath for calm. _Jumin means well_ , he tries to tell himself, but _goddamn_ , it's suffocating. The weight of the hand on his wrist begins to feel more like lead than an unspoken comfort.

 

“Clearly,” the other says, arching a cool brow at him in a way that screams disbelief. “You've been doing a great job.”

 

Zen feels a sudden, inexplicable rage kindle somewhere in the tangle of emotions in his chest. He hates being patronised like some kind of naughty child (and _that_ brings back even more memories that he doesn't currently have the emotional capacity to think of) - a stern talking-to grates on his nerves appropriately.

 

“Stop fucking acting like I'm a kid,” he snaps, shrugging Jumin's hand away. It drops limply to rest by his side. “It’s always _Zen, eat your vegetables_ and _Zen, stop drinking so much; it's bad for you_ but what the fuck about your own problems, huh? You can't go around pretending they don't exist. I've been kind enough to share my place out to you for the past week, listen to all your whingeing and nitpicking, and _yet_ no one’s given enough of a damn to tell me _why._ Is this all just some sick game to you? Did it make you happy to see me obediently dancing along to your whims like a bloody _idiot_?”

 

Zen’s breathing hard by the time he finishes, wispy puffs of his breath backlit in the stark white of his building’s fluorescent lights as he exhales rapidly, his voice pitching into a yell. Jumin’s eyes are uncharacteristically wide, and a tiny part of Zen takes an ugly sort of pleasure in the fact that _he's_ managed to put that look on Mr Robot’s face. The rest of him wants nothing more but to lie face down on his bed and scream into the sheets.

 

He expects Jumin to be mad, but instead the other man just looks tired. There is a defeated hunch to his shoulders, his grey eyes pleading as he searches for a response, and it's then that Zen remembers their ages aren't that far apart. He looks away.

 

He’s aware of the attention they're attracting. Some people are peeking out at the spectacle from the gaps in their curtains. His neighbour is unabashedly gawking at them from his doorway, no doubt enjoying the drama. Nosy old man. Zen can almost hear the start of his next lecture.

 

“Go back and sort your life out before telling me how to live mine,” he wants to shout, but it comes out as nothing more than a whisper.

 

He slams the door in Jumin’s face.

 

* * *

 

Apparently, he didn't make himself clear enough.

 

Zen can hear the quiet sounds of the other moving around the kitchen from where he sits, slumped against the door of his room. He stays like that until he hears the unmistakable sound of approaching footsteps. They pause as Jumin lingers outside his room, uncertain. Zen stands up and yanks the door open long enough to shove a leather duffel bag into the other’s chest, before locking and sitting against it again. Jumin hasn't moved at all, though. He can tell by the way the sliver of light slips through the crack under the door.

 

“Go away, Jumin,” he mumbles wretchedly, but the sound must carry through the barrier of his hands and the hardwood between them. Half a moment of hesitation, and Zen pricks his ears just in time to catch the sound of the main door closing and locking. Gently. Honestly, he'd be a lot happier if Jumin was just a bastard a hundred percent of the time, instead of the weirdly considerate demeanour he's adopted recently.

 

Like how he always tries to make food for Zen, and buy groceries to stock up his fridge, and clean up after both of them. In fact, there are a thousand little things that Jumin insists on doing, whether to make their lives easier or fulfill some kind of convoluted notion of being indebted to Zen. At this time, though, they'd usually be relaxing around the couch, bitching about how shitty work was today or arguing about some tidbit on the news.

 

He hates how accustomed he is to their routine of a grand total of one week, hates how Jumin’s presence in his life means coming back to shitty takeout or meals that are still slightly bland, popcorn and movie nights, arguments about groceries and playful banter. He hates how Jumin makes the place feel more like home, how warm and bright his crappy apartment feels with the two of them, how much he’s always hated the cold silence of the place and -

 

For some reason, there’s an inexplicable wetness on his cheeks, sliding slowly down his face. His eyes sting, and he can barely breathe around the lump in his throat and the mess of _feelings_ in his chest.

 

_Fuck, I'm in so love with this asshole aren’t I?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> shgfhsjahsfl THANK YOU FOR THE COMMENTS I PROMISE ILL RESPOND SOON WHEN I HAVE TIME aaaaaah !!!!  
> yikes some $hit happens sorry dw it has to get worse before it gets better. *slaps car* theres about 2-3 more chapters left in this bad boy  
> why is it moving so fast???? bc im a lonely virgin w zero dating experience all my romance knowledge comes from anime, dramas, fanfiction and dating games dont @ me  
> short chapter but #6 is coming soon ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)


	6. VI

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> zen catches feelings

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> brief mentions of homophobia, but like, superrrr brief. it's after the page break at 'Original Post' but its there if anyone feels uncomfortable w it :c

_Fuck, I'm in so love with this asshole aren’t I?_

 

* * *

 

There are traces of Jumin everywhere.

 

It’s infuriating how the absence of him in Zen’s apartment makes his presence seem more profound. When he finally peels himself off the door to clean his teeth, he automatically reaches for his toothbrush, balancing on a little ceramic cat. When he goes back to the room and flops head-first onto the bed, the sheets still smell of musk and expensive cologne. What pretentious ass, wearing cologne to sleep.

 

It’s nearly midday by the time Zen rolls his sorry ass out of bed, waking up with his nose pressed into the duvet. When he pokes his head into the fridge in pursuit of breakfast, he’s greeted by a plate of fried noodles, meticulously preserved with cling wrap. The post-it stuck to the door of his microwave proclaims _‘need eggs + milk + why is there no sugar in this house’_ , the laundry hamper is freshly emptied, and stacks of fresh linen are clumsily folded on top of the dryer.

 

A warm surge of fondness comes to life in the pit of his stomach, a thousand golden butterflies trying to swoop out of his innards all at once.

 

 _I’m in love with Jumin Han._ The thought crosses his mind, unbidden, and a dopey smile settles across Zen’s lips.

 

_Wait. NO!_

 

“Aargh!” he groans, clutching a fistful of hair in either hand and shaking his head desperately. Maybe he actually sustained some brain damage yesterday when Jumin...pushed him...onto the wall…

 

“Oh for the love of - ”

 

 _But it's true isn't it?_ This past week, Jumin’s gone out of his way to be extra considerate and thoughtful. He went to go find Zen despite having his _own_ issues to solve; and maybe he wasn't trying to avoid them in the way Zen accused him of doing.

 

Jumin’s just trying his best, and Zen turns around and kicks him out.

 

 _God_ , he feels like such a piece of shit.

 

“Jumin Han is an asshole,” he tries, but his voice cracks miserably, like the words are refusing to come out of his mouth. Even his body has given up on his last shreds of dignity.

 

“Ahhhhhhh…What do I _do_?” The ceiling, unhelpfully, offers no advice, so Zen fidgets around until his face is buried in the pillows.

 

At this point, he’s so desperate, he honestly debates the pros and cons of calling Seven, until suddenly he doesn't need to contemplate any further, because his phone vibrates urgently in his hands like a man possessed. “Shit -”

 

“Zen!” comes a tinny voice, “Have you seen the news?”

 

“Whu - no? I just woke up. Listen, Seven - ”

 

“Just woke up? You slob, this is why people are shitting on you,” Seven grumbles, mostly to himself. “Get your sorry behind in front of the TV and _watch_ ,” the redhead demands bossily.

 

"Huh?" It’s too early for this. Zen’s brain can barely compute the fact that he like _likes_ Jumin, let alone process and execute Seven’s instructions like some kind of avatar. In an extreme feat of hand-eye coordination, he manages to swipe the remote off the coffee table with his left foot and skip to the appropriate channel.

 

“ - latest rumour that Jumin Han, the young director of C&R Cooperation, has recently been engaged in a homosexual relationship with an unknown male,” the news anchor is saying. “The company’s share prices are expected to fall -”

 

Seven groans and continues speaking in urgent tones, but Zen can’t move, can’t do anything but watch and listen in morbid fascination as a grainy photo of Jumin and him against the damn wall from yesterday comes into view. He sits, enthralled as the “Expert Relationship Analyst” (there are _jobs_ like that?) clinically dissects their body language, eye contact, Jumin’s hands on his face and the sliver of space between their bodies.

 

It’s unreal.

 

“If you thought that was bad, you guys are trending on _Navar_ and _Twatter_ too. Might want to stay away from those _Pan_ forums, though…”

 

“Fuck.”

 

Seven snorts. “Eloquent as ever,” he says dryly, but all traces of his playful tone are gone. Zen instinctively sits up a bit straighter.

 

“Look, I'm going to take a wild guess and say this is probably the stalker from last night trying to stir shit up with both of you.” A pause. “Jaehee and I have been trying to work some damage control but the Chairman…isn't very happy…Plus, it isn't very good publicity for you, and as your manager this is 100% my problem. So. Shoot.”

 

Zen sighs. It's barely twelve but he already feels drained by this whole fiasco.

 

“Seven, you know you're pretty much my best friend, right.” He’s mildly shocked at the sincerity in his tone, but it's true - Seven got him to where he is today, and the man _does_ give pretty good advice when he wants to, even though he always plays the fool and tries to set Zen up in the most embarrassing situations.

 

There's a moment of stunned silence on the other end of the line. Damn, all those times he's tried to get the other to shut up and all it took was one sentence.

 

“Seven? Oi, now’s not the time to have a mental breakdown over your issues.”

 

A breathy laugh. “Geez, you really know how to make a man feel special,” he says coyly, probably batting his eyelashes, “Need me a man like that.”

 

Zen immediately cringes and regrets calling him. “Can we _please_ not talk about your sex life.”

 

“Haha. So you wanna talk about yours instead? Sure, why the hell not.” Another pause as Seven collects his thoughts. “Well - you and Jumin are both adults. You like him and he probably likes you back. The fans _and_ the public basically think you guys are dating thanks to that stalker, so you don't need to worry about keeping it lowkey or whatever. Honestly, I don't see the problem.”

 

He says it so matter-of-factly that Zen has to stop for a few seconds to let his brain catch up. “Wh - wait but, the fans? Don't like it? C&R stock shares? Chairman Han? _Does Jumin even like me back_?” The hysteria begins to bubble up in his gut, and Zen wonders, in a slightly distant way, how squeaky his voice sounds to Seven right now.

 

“Pssh. None of that matters. Life’s too short to angst over things like that. Live fast die young, man,” and to the untrained ears it might sound like a flippant, half-hearted piece of advice, but it's everything Zen needs to hear now, especially in the face of his apparently-crumbling popularity.

 

The stunned silence stretches for so long, Zen imagines the redhead starts to fidget, because he suddenly bursts out again. “Right, so here’s what you’re going to do,” Seven proclaims, with a healthy amount of melodrama. (Sometimes, Zen wonders which one of them is the actor. Maybe he should refer Seven to his director, if he's still welcome at the theatre after all this.) “You're going to show up at C&R, _ace_ that goddamn audition so you can split the profits with me, then use your brazen cockiness and devilish good looks to seduce Jumin Han. Bonus points if you make out on camera,” he finishes cheekily.

 

Zen feels his ears go hot and he groans loud enough to drown out Seven’s voice in his ear, where the hacker is going on a tangent about the salacious _office adventures_ he's been privy to. In the interests of his job, of course. “Anyways, do you know how many strings I had to pull for this? Are you even listening to me, you stupid dog?”

 

“Screw you and your cat fetish,” Zen shoots back, but his lips curl up into a smirk, unbidden. He actually feels a lot better after that conversation, and Seven must realise that (or: he’s keeping track of Zen’s reactions live through the microwave or something) because the redhead laughs in reply. “Defender of Justice, 707, always here to help a friend in need! Where would you be without me?”

 

“Yeah, yeah, I owe my life and my firstborn to you; we’ve been through this. Many times, in fact,” he grumbles back.

 

Seven hums. “Remember, ten percent of the proceedings go to the agent that got you an appointment. That’s me. Another twenty percent to your amazingly talented and awesome manager. That's also me. Now go get ‘em, you overgrown albino tiger!” to which he sneezes in response, because _cats._ The line is dropped before Zen recovers enough to sass back accordingly (what year is this, 2004?).

 

The news has finally moved on. Now the weather people are discussing the cold snap likely to hit this weekend. That's fine. Zen can deal with a little snow.

 

He takes a deep breath to steel himself, and then three more for good measure. “Right, you can do this.”

 

He’s got a job to audition for, places to be, and snobby directors to seduce, after all.

 

* * *

 

 _Original Post:_ **Zen dating scandal????**

 _User_ **xxXalc:** can't believe zen is like _that_

_[ Show replies ]_

_ > User _ **p**:** ehhhhh! so unexpected~~~

[ **126 people** liked this comment]

 _ > User _ **coffee-prince:** leave zen alone, idols are people too! they don't live to fulfill ur private dating fantasies

[ **707 and 204 others** liked this comment]

     > _User_ **coffee-prince:** what they do in their own lives and who they choose to date is their problem, so im sick and tired of people complaining about it ಠ＿ಠ

[ **707 and 231 others** liked this comment]

 

[13:20]  **707:** an intellectual 

[13:20] **707:** just called zen btw hes on his way 

 

...

 

[13:28] **Jaehee Kang:** I

[13:30] **Jaehee Kang:** I think I'm in love

[13:33] **707:** lmao

[13:34] **707:** knew you'd like it ;^)

 

* * *

 

[13:29] 

[1 new notification]

 _Pan:_ **redhot_japapeños** **liked your comment**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> it has barely been 12 hours but im back. domestic goddess jumin uwu thats prime waifu material right there  
> lil note about me trying to avoid copyright again:  
> navar = naver which is kinda like korean google  
> twatter = twitter obviously. inspired by that one fic i read ages ago so tweets are twats and it was honestly the funniest thing  
> pan = pann which is like an online forum for people to discuss celebrities and stuff  
> why do i know this? sweats
> 
> someone new makes a super superrrr little appearance in this au (more to come later on in the epilogue ;) )  
> also its been so long ive forgotten my own text formats,,,


	7. VII

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this thing grew and grew #itsnotthatdeepzen

Fringe, artfully arranged to fall carelessly into his eyes? Check. Shirt, a slim black turtleneck that emphasises the hard lines of his body from going to the gym every bloody evening? Check. Cologne? Zen tugs up the neck of his shirt for a whiff and winces. He hopes the staff at C&R like the smell of fruity cocktails. Maybe his audition will be accordingly sensational and invigorating, just the... _breath of fresh air_ they need. Ha.

 

_Argh!_

 

He eyes himself contemplatively in the mirror a few more times for good measure, twisting around to check out his best angles. After he concludes once again that _yeah, I'd bang myself_ , which is basically the litmus test of whether or not he is fit for public consumption, Zen reluctantly drags himself away from the bathroom counter. It’s already what, two hours past the scheduled time, and unfortunately he’s finally run out of excuses to delay the inevitable.

 

He really, _really_ doesn't want to do this, because he’s probably going to regret it later. Kind of like ripping off a bandaid, only to find that the wound underneath is still bloody and raw, and you should probably have left it on in the first place but it's too late now, so you have to look past it and get on with life anyways. Still, it's a better option than letting his newfound feelings for Jumin fester alongside the clench of guilt in his gut. He’ll never admit it aloud, but Zen really doesn't know what he’ll do if Jumin refuses to talk to him again. Cry, probably.

 

[13:17] **ZEN** : I'm omw  
[13:18] **707** : roger!! ＼＼\٩(๑`^´๑)۶//／／  
[13:18] **707** : keep me posted  
[13:18] **707** : well tbh doesnt matter if u dont ill be watching anyways  
[13:19] **ZEN** : Please just this once  
[13:19] **ZEN** : leave me a l on e

 

In a radical deviation from his daily routine (this day has already been shot to hell anyways, might as well make the most out of it), he jogs to the main road and distractedly hails a taxi, turning Seven’s words over in his mind near-obsessively. He’s a nervous wreck throughout the entirety of the ride (or maybe the entire ride _itself_ was just one big nervous wreck), between the genuine tickle of his allergy and the phantom ache of _Jumin_ and _what do I do if he hates me now? Did he even like me in the first place?_ , he sits ramrod straight at the very edge of the seat and jerks to attention whenever the car begins to slow down in front of any high rise building. It’s so bad that the driver tells him to keep the change and even thanks _him_ when Zen staggers off like a man walking to his own death. What the hell.

 

The taxi idles by the sidewalk as he approaches the shiny, imposing glass doors. Out of the corner of his eye, Zen can see the driver watching him worriedly through the rear view mirror. Their eyes meet for a second, before the older man sheepishly waves and starts to turn out onto the mainroad.

 

 _I must look like such a mess._ He takes a deep breath for strength, unfortunately getting a nose full of grapefruit-y cologne in the process (what, that shit is _potent_ ), and starts to psych himself up, because no one else is going to do it for him.

 

 _You’re Zen, up-and-coming musical heartthrob, stealer of the hearts and minds of ladies and gents alike_. (He remembers Seven’s words - _he probably likes you back_ \- and that's enough for him to raise his chin, straighten his spine and square his shoulders.)

 

He can totally do this.

 

Zen breathes out, his gaze fixed in front of him, and takes a step forward. 

 

* * *

 

He can't do this.

 

“Lift up your hand - just like that. Now tilt your head and pout and - _yes_ , that's it, good, good keep it up!”

 

The lone panellist (is it still a panellist if there is no panel? Auditioner? None of the terms quite embody the cheery determination of this particular woman, who's small stature belies the fact that she is absolutely terrifying) prowls around him, checking on everything from his stance to the modulation of his voice with the intensity of a thousand suns, all condensed into a grand total of five feet.

 

“Now, starting from the top again!” she demands, waving a hand at the cameraman who wilts slightly in dismay but angles the equipment towards Zen anyways.

 

Drawing his fists up to frame his face in a way that's supposed to be feline (but in reality is just the sad abomination that is the intersection of capitalism and the _nekomimi_ subculture - what kind of cat wears scanty outfits and nyas cutely apart from the ones getting paid for it), Zen cringes internally. Then he remembers that the entirety of the past half an hour has been recorded on tape - no doubt to be immortalised in C &R’s company archives - and any last tendrils of his love and self-respect burn to dust, leaving behind a steely sort of determination to succeed as well as the first itching of his allergies  

 

He grits his teeth, nodding as a member of staff counts him down.

 

 _The things I do for money. The things I do for Seven. The things I do for stupid_ Jumin Han.

 

Then the cameras start rolling, and he transforms into a different person entirely.

 

* * *

 

 

“This isn't wine, _nyan_ ,” he whines, playfully batting a bottle stood on the table and pouting sulkily in the most horrible and diabetes-inducing way that he can muster from the depths of his soul, which is also currently in the process of crumbling into ash.

 

From the corner of his eye, he can see the female staff (His judge? Jury? Executioner.) furiously taking down notes and murmuring softly into her mic, the entire audio and sound team tracking each minute tilt of his head or angling of his body with a morbid sort of dedication.

 

_Dear god, what have I become?_

 

“Cut! That was perfect!” The woman gushes, reaching out to shake his hand enthusiastically. “I have finalised and sent the draft of the contract to Assistant Kang and your manager. Thank you for your hard work, and we look forward to working with you in future.” She pauses suddenly, pressing her headset closer into her ear, “Ah, Mr Choi! Yes, I was just talking to him about…yes, about the twenty percent cut to your agency…” she wanders off to the fringes of the room for privacy, mouthing another quick thank-you to Zen and waving at a member of staff to escort him back to the changing rooms.

 

* * *

 

He's pulling on his black turtleneck and lamenting the fact that his carefully-planned styling was all for naught (the team of stylists at C&R take their job very seriously, despite the fact that Zen knows he is perfectly capable of dressing himself, thanks a lot) when the soft rapping of knuckles sounds out in the silence of the room.

 

“Yeah,” he calls, struggling slightly to get his head through the neck, before the door swings open, revealing Jaehee herself.

 

“Jaehee?!” It comes out as an embarrassingly high-pitched squeak that Zen will blame on his superior skill at his craft; he's transcended acting and has basically _become_ a cutesy, whiny, capitalist cat. Jaehee politely tries to pretend she doesn't notice (a futile effort, since he can see the upturn of her lips in full view), instead forging on with a “Good work today, Zen. I've brought the documents down for you to review.”

 

Zen freezes in the midst of untangling his ponytail. _Shit_ , because the next part of he and Seven’s admittedly shoddy plan was banking on the possibility that he'd be sent to Jumin or Jaehee’s office at least to work out the details, so he can somehow fall to his knees at the older man’s feet and beg for forgiveness.

 

 _Guess even that’s too much to hope for_ , he thinks wryly, smiling despite the prickle of tears in his eyes, the tightening of his throat, the cavern that’s opened up in his chest.

 

Some shade of desolation must shine through, because the next thing he knows, Jaehee is stepping closer to place a comforting hand on his shoulder. “Is everything alright, Zen?” She asks, warm brown eyes glittering with concern behind the cut of her glasses.

 

He shrugs, unsure if he can trust his voice not to crack embarrassingly or squeak or something equally mortifying. Jaehee furrows her eyebrows, her face slowly gaining a determined look before her phone beeps suddenly, obscenely loud in the stilted silence, and they both jump. 

 

“Hello, Jaehee Kang speaking. Yes, with the shareholders. The Chairman wants  _what_?” Zen takes the moment to quietly compose himself, tamping down mercilessly on the dull ache of hopelessness and self-pity spreading in his gut. Jumin doesn't even want to see him anymore. He has no reason to want to, anyways, and every right not to.

 

(He was trying his best, and Zen turned around and kicked him out because he's an insecure idiot who can't separate past from present. Jumin isn't like his shitty family at all, despite the constant barbs and animosity which Zen realises _he’s_ the main cause of in the first place. Because he'd been afraid - that Jumin’s initial kindness to him was just a front, that letting the man closer would just give him access to Zen’s deepest fears, giving him the power to twist and turn them into something ugly, another piece of ammunition to hurt and wound Zen and make him bleed - but the fact of it is that _it's not that deep_. All the time, his reflexive dislike of Jumin has just been a product of his own self-loathing, instead of any genuine malice on the other man’s part, a figment of his imagination conjured and fed by that stupid little piece of his subconscious that walls itself up and tells him not to let anyone get too close - and it’s one more thing to hate himself about, lost in a flood of many others. _Jeez_ , Zen is such a weak-willed piece of shit.)

 

He's brought out of his funk when Jaehee sighs out of her nose in exasperation and grips her phone, white-knuckled. Zen gets the distinct impression that if she had one of those old-school flip phones right now, she'd be snapping it shut and then hurling it angrily at someone's face. As it is, she taps out a message quickly, before turning to face him properly.

 

“Change of plans. The Chairman wants to see you." At Zen’s look of disbelief, she elaborates, “ _Now_.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> almost there folks :^0  
> sorry this was p late i had some essays to write,,,,  
> also pls note none of this is betad and its also barely proofread so pls come @ me if u have any burning questions TM


	8. VIII

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> pls remember i barely proofread my things until after i post them then i reread the chapters obsessively xx

Jumin Han is having a shitty day.

 

More accurately, he's _been_ having a shitty day since yesterday night, after the whole stalker fiasco. It was already getting late by the time he'd left ( _was_ _kicked out of_ , more like) Zen’s apartment; not to mention the fact that he'd had to solicit Driver Kim in his downtime to ferry him back to his own apartment like some kind of hapless child.

 

Adding to that, he hadn't even managed a good night’s rest - between the misplaced guilt at offending Zen’s tender sensibilities despite the fact that everything had been going so well the past week and his mulish insistence that he hadn't done anything wrong, sleep had eluded him the entire time. _And_ that wasn't even factoring in the fact that he’d got up to see his face plastered all over this morning's headlines; as if the entirety of South Korea had nothing better to do apart from speculating about his trysts with unknown men in dark alleys. (As if his own father didn't make the news often enough when it came to salacious rendezvous.) That alone was reason enough to want to collapse back into bed, preferably for a few years.

 

For a brief moment, the overwhelming urge to hurl himself off the top of a building, ideally a tall one, comes over him. Perhaps his own office would do nicely.

 

“Jumin! Are you listening?”

 

“Hm,” he grunts noncommittally, watching his pen spin in his fingers with a detached sort of interest.

 

“So as I was saying, Chairman Han told me to come and…” the woman drones on. She pauses, looking at him expectantly, and Jumin stares back flatly. Her expression twists in annoyance, and she flips her pink tresses over her shoulder haughtily.

 

He really doesn't know why she thinks she has the right to come in and lecture him. Must be his father’s weakness for women at least thirty years his junior at play again.

 

“Jumin!” She (What is her name? S...Shirley? No, that's not it…Sandra? Either way, her voice goes unpleasantly shrill, like a harpy straight out from the legends of old. It grates on his already fraying nerves) shrieks. “The company’s share prices have already plummeted by two percent because of your silly little stunt, and as your fiancé, your father has given me permission to talk some sense into you!”

 

“Well, Ms…Stella,” he says, steamrolling smoothly over her spluttering protest, “I fail to see how C&R’s shares concern you, much less my romantic exploits, for the matter.”

 

 _Ah. Sarah_. _That’s_ what her name was. Oh well, it's much too late now.

 

“Are you even listening?” She -  _Sarah_ \- flat-out yells, her voice climbing up an octave or two. “I _said_ , I'm your _fia_ \- ”

 

 _The last I checked, marriage was a celebration of mutual love and consent, of which this is neither_ , is on the tip of his tongue, before the door to his office opens gently.

 

“Sir,” Jaehee cuts in with a smooth bow, “As requested, the draft proposal for your side project.”

 

 _God,_  he could kiss Jaehee now. That, his father wouldn't be able to begrudge. In fact, the Chairman would probably congratulate Jumin and gift him the chalet in Bordeaux as an early birthday present.

 

The thought must leak of of his ears, or something equally absurd, because this _Sarah_ character’s face gets progressively redder the more his smirk grows. To be fair, Jumin isn't exactly trying to hide his amusement, and judging from the fact that Jaehee’s face is still inclined to the ground, she isn’t putting up more than a token effort either.

 

“Who do you think you are?” Sarah bursts out suddenly, and he would have to be deaf not to notice the hostile derision in her tone, “How _dare_ you interrupt Jumin when he's talking to me? Jumin is my husband-to-be, and you're nothing more than an _Assistant_.” She raises her hand with an aborted motion as though she wants to hit Jaehee, to take out her anger on his assistant under the guise of defending his honour, or something equally asinine.

 

What a crude woman.

 

Jumin sighs, standing up from his seat fluidly. He's across the office in two strides, gripping Sarah’s wrist in one gloved hand none-too-gently as Jaehee watches on, unfazed by all the drama. Ah, where would he be without her.

 

“Enough. I've kindly listened to your self-important drivel for the past fifteen minutes. Insults and snide comments, I can deal with, but my employees do not need to take this abuse from you - or anyone else, for the matter. Make no mistake: regardless of what Father might have promised you, _I_  have no intention of letting you marry into the family, or whatever it is you might have been deluded into thinking. What _I_ do in my own free time is none of _your_ business, unaffiliated stranger as you are, and I suggest you see yourself out before I get Security to do it for you.” It's probably the most he's spoken to her at a time, because when he finishes she looks flabbergasted, her garishly-painted lips opening and closing gormlessly before settling into a scowl.

 

Jumin releases his iron grip on her wrist, letting it fall back to her side with little grace, and he pointedly dusts his hands off. It's as clear a dismissal as any, and  to one side, Jaehee looks vaguely constipated, as if she's trying her best to reign in her laughter. It gives him the strangest feeling of vicious satisfaction.

 

“You...you’ll pay for this,” she sneers in a way that falls pitifully short of menacing, “You will regret insulting me, I'll make sure of it!” and scampers out of his office. He and Jaehee watch with mild interest as she tears through the cubicles outside, mindlessly escaping to the lifts to complain to the Chairman about Jumin's rebellious behaviour.

 

Somehow, Jumin can't bring himself to care. He turns to Jaehee, who is smiling beatifically in response to the confused looks of the employees occupying this floor. “So. What is this about the proposal?”

 

“Oh,” She clears her throat, her face sliding back into a cool mask of professionalism, though he can still see the warm twinkle of amusement in her eyes, “A 'Mr Choi' has requested an audience with you, in his capacity as the actor Zen’s agent.”

 

 _Zen_ , he thinks, and a dozen different emotions rise in his gut at once. Jumin feels vaguely sick. Perhaps it's indigestion.

 

“I see,” he says, before the guilt and shame and  _feelings_ can set in. Horrible things, they are. 

 

(Even though he doesn't know for sure where he'd mistepped, Jumin _knows_ himself; knows his tendency to get too...obsessive over things he cares about. It's partly why he's refused any and all of Father’s attempts to set him up to date with vague dismissal. It’s not worth getting attached, not when everyone leaves in the end.)

 

Everyone except Zen, apparently. 

 

“Send him in.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "send him in" WHAT IS THIS, THE TWELFTH CENTURY?  
> minor change to the summary bc i started this fic with the intention of it spanning 11 days, just like the actual game (also the plot was going to be slightly different - i mentioned the cat wine commercial filming in ch1 just for the lols but look how it turned out)  
> SO! we finally get jumins pov but im also too lazy to write angst so ye have his pompous inner monologue  
> remember like 4 chapters ago when i said only 2-3 left in this bad boi yeah that was a lie. NOW there are only 2 chapters left which is annoying bc this was supposed to be the penultimate one so i could finish on 10 august but oh well life takes u places


	9. IX

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just realised i did something incredibly stupid how can jaehee be at two places at once SO minor edits to ch7 after reading over but tldr jaehee goes to Jumin's office (ch8) and then to find zen (ch7) to tell him that *Chairman* Han wants to speak to him so yep sorry bout that the dangers of writing fanfiction late into the night

“Right, so I did a little digging like you asked - you owe me big time, man - and look! What I found!” Seven exclaims, sliding a manila folder over polished mahogany. The redhead is quite literally vibrating in his seat as Jumin undoes the ribbon with steady hands and pulls out the first sheet to inspect, grey eyes widening as he takes in the implications of Seven’s…research.

 

A few moments of silence pass, Jumin’s eyebrows climbing higher up his face in time with the rising tension in the room, before Seven evidently can't take the suspense anymore. He leaps to his feet with a pout, disturbing the papers lying around and nearly upending a stray mug of coffee. “ _Jumin_! Why the hell do you read so slowly, you're killing the mood!” He whines. “Where’s the exciting reveal, the shock that everything was being manipulated by your Dad’s new girlfriend to seize the company? The betrayal, the sense of _drama_?”

 

Mercifully, both their phones ring shrilly at the same time, cutting off the hacker’s complaining. Jumin bites the inside of his cheek and takes a deep breath for calm, managing a flat look at the other man before picking up his mobile. Seven huffs but does the same.

 

[15:18] **Jaehee Kang:** Mr Han!! Apologies for being out of line, but

[15:19] **Jaehee Kang:** The Chairman said I'm to bring Zen to his office, ASAP. Apparently Ms Glam Choi is there too…

[15:19] **Jaehee Kang:** I suspect it is to do with the incident earlier with Ms Sarah

[15:19] **Jaehee Kang:** please come quick, we’re on our way!

 

 _Oh_ , Jumin thinks, feeling his chest tighten. He’s gripping his phone so hard his knuckles begin to turn white. Somewhere behind him, he distantly registers Seven’s crow of triumph.

 

“Seven,” he starts, and it's a small miracle that his voice is steady and inflectionless as always. The man perks up and grins, smoothing down his tailored business suit (which, really, is just an excuse for Seven to dress up like a spy, in his words) and sweeping his unruly red hair to the side.  

 

“I have…some _things_ to settle with my father.”

 

Seven whoops loudly, bulldozing over Jumin's quiet fury like a pro as he reaches over to pluck the incriminating folder from Jumin’s desk and tuck it under his arm. “Finally. You don't know how long I've been waiting to yell at someone!”

 

* * *

 

“Chairman,” Jaehee greets, bowing her head at the elderly man, who single-handedly founded one of the largest corporations this side of Asia. Zen gulps, wiping his sweaty palms on his trousers as he shuffles stiffly into the office.

 

The Chairman, _Jumin’s Dad_ , looks up at their entrance from where he lounges in a plush leather chair, a woman with chic brown hair and large diamond accessories to his right, and another with long, pink hair to his left.

 

( _All men are wolves_ , Zen thinks sourly, at the sight of the Chairman’s still-wandering hands.)

 

“Ah, you must be _Zen_ ,” the brunette demurs, turning to face him and _holy shit is that Glam Choi?_  The shock at seeing an industry legend means that he nearly misses the venom lacing her words. Nearly.

 

“Mentor! That's him!” Pink-hair cries, and Zen abruptly gets up close and personal with the perfectly manicured finger that she stabs accusingly in his face. “That's him, Echo Girl told me, that's the one who stole my Jumin away from me!”

 

Her _what? Her_ Jumin? Who the hell was this woman? Also, _Echo Girl?_ What did Zen have to do with a big screen celebrity like Echo Girl? _Or_ Glam Choi, for the matter.

 

“Huh?” He says intelligently, and Zen can almost hear Jaehee offering a prayer to the gods for strength. Pinkie sneers haughtily, reaching into her bag briefly before throwing down a stack of photographs on the table.

 

Photographs that Zen, unfortunately, recognises.

 

The nearest one shows him helping Jumin into Driver Kim’s car at the fancy place the other decided they should go to for dinner earlier that week. Zen remembers the whole affair pretty well - more accurately, he remembers their comfortable banter (or well, Jumin sitting there and making occasional noises at Zen’s commentary of the couple two tables away) and the older man getting vaguely tipsy because of the wine, no matter how much he tried to deny it afterwards. He remembers sitting in the car, Jumin a warm weight beside him, shoulders brushing and legs bumping with every corner. He remembers Jumin eventually falling asleep, his head drooping to rest on the window, soft hair falling over his closed eyes, face young and smooth without the stress of his waking moments. Remembers wanting to lean over and - _yep okay enough of that now is not the time, Zen!_

 

The next one depicts them in the convenience store for a late-night snack run, taken from the gaps between the shelves. That night had been spent educating Jumin about the pros and cons of different potato chips brands with rising horror and indignation in equal parts.

 

And so on. Spread across the table, fanned out in a careless sprawl is the entirety of their past week of coexistence captured on camera, a kaleidoscope of moments frozen in time.

 

“What is your relationship with Jumin?” The woman demands, “I know you must have seduced him; my husband-to-be isn't like _that_. There's no way he'd like someone like _you_ , so spit it out. What did you do to get him to sleep with you?”

 

Zen feels his eyebrows go higher and higher until they're right up there, with his self-esteem. There are a thousand things he'd like to say, that he could protest, the injustice of _let people love who they want to love_ on the tip of his tongue, the realisation that _she_ was the one behind the stalking, the fury at her implication that he's _cheap._

 

“What's it to you?” he challenges instead, affecting a look of forced calm despite the molten anger that burns hot in his gut and runs thickly in his veins, “Husband-to-be? You must be kidding, I’ve never even _heard_ Jumin mention you before, and we’ve known each other for five years.”

 

“You - ” she grits out, her pitch rising shrilly. Pinkie clears the space between them with a few clicking strides, and her hand snaps out to catch him across the cheek. It happens too fast for him to react, (and also, Zen doesn't hit women) so he's left reeling half a second later, his palm cradling the stinging redness on his face.

 

It's not the pain so much as the casual cruelty of the gesture - this woman’s selfish, derisive fury, her willingness to implicate and ruin a literal stranger - that gets him.

 

(It takes him back, to unhappy childhoods of neglectful mothers and cold families. Sharp words, stilted conversations, an oppressive, pervasive silence - it's everything that he doesn't want to think about again, because Zen’s moved past that _, and he's not going back again._ Ever.)

 

“Sarah!” There’s a terrible screeching of chairs as Jumin’s father stands up, Glam Choi at his elbow, and Pinkie actually looks terrified for a second, her face visibly going pale even under a good few layers of foundation.

 

“You - Zen, was it?” Zen nods absently, wondering where this is going but also slightly terrified.

 

“You must have guessed by now why I’ve called you here,” the Chairman says, not unkindly. “Jumin is young and successful - I would hate to let a rumour like this affect his standing in and outside of the company. My son in destined for great things, and as his father, I just want the best for him. I’m sure you can understand too, you seem like the decent sort. Now…” the man trails off, and the fatherly air around him suddenly changes into something sharper, more dangerous. “Name your price.”

 

He can’t believe his ears. He doesn’t want to believe them. "Sorry, what?" 

 

Jumin’s father - C&R’s _Chairman_ \- shrugs. “There’s nothing money can’t buy in this world. Dignity, morals and reputation - all these things can be bought for the right price. What makes you think love is any different?”

 

Pinkie preens smugly from over the Chairman’s shoulder. In fact, everyone in the room is looking at him expectantly, and suddenly it dawns on him.

 

_They actually think he’s right._

 

 _These people are_ impossible.

 

“I don’t - You can’t _pay someone off_ like that!” Zen exclaims. The fact that people can even think like that - that love and friendship and happiness are simple commodities to be bought and sold like meat, that the entirety of human existence; the sheer depth of joy, anger, sadness, the warmth and quiet affection of coming home to another person can be reduced into numbers on a piece of paper - it’s just so... _wrong_. Jumin’s emotionless robot persona and odd fixation on his cat, the only meaningful relationship in his homelife, makes a lot more sense now. It’s a small miracle the man isn’t some kind of capitalist megalomaniac, with an upbringing like that.

 

He gets an arched brow for his efforts, and Zen bristles. “I don't love Jumin for his _money_!”

 

“No? But then why else would you try to get close to my son for?” The Chairman sounds genuinely confused, as if the idea of two people being together because they enjoy each other’s company is something curious and alien to him. (Or, in this case, he and Jumin actually standing to be around each other for more than ten minutes at a time. Truly, they've come a long way.)

 

The question, the simple implication that Zen is going out of his way to put up with Jumin for his wealth and fame, like some unscrupulous gold-digger; it spurs something on within him. He feels a surge of protectiveness, a strange compulsion to defend the other man.

 

“He - Jumin - he’s a rude, crotchety bastard with a borderline unhealthy love for cats and wine,” Come to think of it, the cat wine commercial is the exact reason why Zen’s found himself landed in this situation in the first place. Huh. The universe works in strange ways. “ - absolutely hopeless at cooking or photography, so horribly sheltered it comes off as rude, never fails to piss me off just by _breathing_ \- ” he doesn’t know where he’s going with this. Dimly, he registers Jaehee trying to smother her laughter despite the heavy weight of tension in the air. Oh, she’s _never_ going to let him live this down, but he forges on anyways. “ - But, he’s so much more than that. He’s kind, in his own weird way, tries so damn hard to be the best person he possibly can, and he’s always stayed true to his own ideals no matter what anyone says.” He can't stop the words from coming - he has to make them understand, somehow. Somewhere inside that cold, calculating gaze, surely there must exist some kind of warmth or compassion?

 

Zen doesn’t realise that he’s squeezed his eyes shut at some point during his rambling, hot tears of frustration tracking down his cheeks, hands curled loosely into fists by his side. Otherwise, he would have probably seen a shock of red hair coming out of the lift. Would probably have noticed the tall, imposing and impeccably dressed man striding up confidently to the glass double doors, a man with windswept hair and stormy eyes and a look of cool determination on his face.

 

As it is, the doors slam open just as Zen’s opening his mouth to continue his long and embarrassingly frank outburst.

 

“Jumin is so much more than his wealth and reputation! I don’t know what you think love is, but has it occured to you that I might actually like him as a _person_?” he finishes, his voice thick with emotion.

 

“Father,” comes a voice that’s horribly familiar, from the depths of the silence, and Zen feels his stomach sink. “I can’t say I’m surprised,” Jumin says, striding into the room with Seven on his heels.

 

 

* * *

 

 

It’s been a long time since Jumin spoke to his father face to face, during his short, self-imposed exile from their family home. The Chairman, inexplicably, looks as if he has aged within the span of a week, the skin around his eyes tight, and the lines of his forehead deep with stress. He imagines it must be the fallout of his own ‘dating scandal’ at fault.

 

The thought brings him back to the situation at hand, and Jumin pauses for half a second before making up his mind.

 

“Here,” he announces, throwing the folder of Seven’s compiled background check of ‘Sarah’ onto his father’s desk and watching with dark satisfaction as the pictures and forged documents fan out, stark against dark mahogany. “You should find that this woman is nothing but a con,” he intones with vague, sadistic pleasure, watching as the swindler in question pales considerably and gapes, frozen in her fury. Good riddance to her.

 

Jumin watches as his father picks the file up, scanning through it with a look of disbelief. He takes the reprieve, letting his eyes wander over to Zen, who’s still standing in the middle of the room with a fine, nearly unnoticeable tremor running through his body. He catches the other’s eye when Zen notices the meaningful weight of his gaze, and Jumin quirks a brow.

 

_Are you alright?_

 

_Who did this to you?_

 

_I’ll make them pay._

 

Perhaps he should feel some sort of concern at the sheer intensity of emotions in his chest, but Jumin has been harbouring these feelings for awhile now, and it’s in his nature to be possessive over things he cares about.

 

A sigh from his father shatters the moment, and Zen startles, breaking eye contact. He won’t meet Jumin’s eye no matter how hard he stares, and Jumin curses his father’s bad timing as usual.

 

“Even so, a _man_ , Jumin?” the Chairmam shakes his head, disapproval colouring his tone. “What would your mother say?”

 

Something in his chest hardens, turning into ice. His father _knows_  that they don't talk about his mother. They just don't.

 

Evidently, the older man must realise his mistake, because he stops abruptly. Jumin takes a deep breath, _don’t think about her, no don’t leave me alone again_ , to collect his thoughts, before he turns his gaze to meet his father’s head-on.

 

“I wouldn’t know, seeing as she’s been gone for the past twenty years,” he says quietly, and he doesn’t mean for it to come out as accusing, but the Chairman flinches away as if burnt. He looks like he’s about to say something, but he is rudely interrupted by _Sarah._

 

“I don’t see how any of this matters,” the pink-haired woman flaps her hand dismissively. “Obviously, this man means nothing to Jumin. He’s just fooling around to anger you, Chairman, but he’ll come back soon enough to his fiancee, won’t you, darling?”

 

She did _not._

 

He’s never understood Zen’s tendency to fly into a righteous fury and do something stupid and impulsive. No, Jumin’s anger always runs cold. It creeps, like ice in his veins, like cold, tempered steel through his body, but it is no less in its intensity.

 

It also, apparently, drives him to do stupid and equally impulsive things.

 

So he thinks as he stalks across the room, his long strides closing the space between him and Zen, before coming to a stop in front of the other man, catching his face gently in gloved hands. Later, Jumin will marvel at the softness of Zen’s cheeks, the warmth of his skin radiating through the starched fabric of Jumin’s gloves, the perfect ‘o’ of surprise on his cherry lips and the heady scent of grapefruit and aftershave, and something inexplicably _Zen_.

 

This close, Jumin can make out the light smattering of freckles across the other’s nose, the flecks of orange in Zen’s glittering ruby eyes and the careless fall of his bangs across his forehead, threads of spun silver making him seem almost otherworldly in their ethereal beauty. For now, he drinks in the sight of the other man, everything about him akin to a small miracle.

 

He’s almost forgotten his anger, lost as he is in eyes like twin jewels and a face like chiselled marble, but the noise of his father’s disapproval and Sarah’s scandalised gasp bring him back to the present.

 

“‘M sorry for this,” he mumbles against Zen’s lips, feeling rather than hearing the other’s sharp intake of breath as Jumin closes the scarce distance between them, slanting his mouth against the other’s soft lips. 

 

Zen’s arms come to wrap around his shoulders, and Jumin lets himself be pulled closer until they’re both pressed up against each other, like that time slightly over a day ago with the stalker, before everything went to shit and Jumin thought he still had a chance. Zen’s lips part as he makes a keening noise into Jumin’s mouth, and it’s slightly awkward for a beat as their teeth clack clumsily against each other. Jumin has no clue what to do with himself, until Zen tangles his fingers in the hair at the base of Jumin’s neck, guiding him to tilt his head, deepening the kiss.

 

Jumin nudges Zen away gently, deciding that he’s probably proven his point sufficiently, and also if they keep this up for any longer, there is no guarantee that he won’t end up ravishing Zen here and now, in front of an entire audience and everything.

 

“Do I _look_ like I’m fooling around?” he intones condescendingly to the room at large, affecting a forced air of calm arrogance while trying his best to keep himself from bursting at the seams because he finally kissed Zen after two years of pining and _Zen kissed him back_.

 

His father looks absolutely livid. Sarah is staring at them in dumb shock. Someone, Seven probably, wolf whistles.

 

Zen, on the other hand.

 

His lips are swollen and slick, pupils blown wide and smouldering with an unidentifiable heat that goes straight to Jumin’s stomach.

 

_Wow._

 

It’s time to leave, he decides, seizing Zen by the wrist and dragging him out of the office.

 

The doors slam shut with a bang. Neither of them looks back.

 

* * *

 

“Jumin, wait!” Zen starts, scrambling to keep up with the other man’s long strides (not that Zen’s legs are _short_ , by any stretch of imagination - rather he’s still winded from events in the room, his emotions are an absolute wreck, and he can’t deal with the mixed signals he’s getting. All in all it’s been a long day for him), but whatever he was about to say dies a natural death in his throat when sharp grey eyes find his. Jumin raises a dark brow, indicating for him to go on, (and the gesture is disconcertingly remenicent the older Mr Han’s own) but Zen’s tongue is heavy in his mouth and his brain feels like mush.

 

_Come on, just say something!_

 

So he thinks, but speech manages to elude him anyways, as if his body’s self-defense mechanism is kicking in _now_ of all times to preserve the fast-fading embers of his dignity. Maybe Zen’s just making excuses for how he stands there for what feels like a lifetime but is probably only about five seconds, gaping dumbly at the other man’s face. (To be fair, it’s a very nice face, sharp angles and soft lips and feathery lashes.)

 

 _God_ but what if Jumin didn’t mean it? It’s obvious he was doing it to piss his father off and shut Pinkie down, but what if Zen’s the only one reading so deeply into the kiss? It’s just a _kiss_ , after all; not some undying declaration of love. Yet his face is burning and his knees still feel weak, and Zen thinks his fragile heart might shatter into a million tiny pieces if Jumin’s response is to shrug and dismiss it.

 

Oh what the hell, he’s not a _wuss_ ; he can deal just fine with rejection. He’ll make it work. Somehow.

 

“I’m - ” his voice cracks, so he clears his throat and tries again, trying his best not to wince, “I’m in fucking love with you _,_ you dick, and I was thinking _maybe_ you like me back too going by the way you literally just stuck your tongue down my throat _in front of of your dad and his girlfriend, holy shit what the hell were we thinking -_ ”

 

Jumin’s eyebrow gets lost in his hairline and Zen feels his cheeks flush even more and his heart working double-time at the gesture. (Is this what a cardiac arrest feels like? Maybe he should get that checked.) He wets his lips, watching as Jumin’s eyes track the movement of his tongue and wondering if he’s just imagining it. “I, uh, willyougooutwithme?” he yells, screwing his eyes shut in desperation.

 

Jumin is silent for an uncomfortably long time. Zen is in the midst of mentally preparing himself for the worst, when he feels more than hears the other huff.

 

“I thought you’d never ask.”

 

“That’s fair enough, I didn’t expect you to agree anyways, and I completely respect - _Wait,_ ” Zen cuts himself off abruptly, mid-rant, peeking through the crack in his fingers at Jumin. (Since when did his hands get there?)

 

“Wait, what did you just say?” Despite everything, a tiny little bubble of _something_ swells in his chest, a cautious little seedling of desire turning its face to the warm sunlight of hope that shines through.

 

Jumin’s lips tip into a smirk, his grey eyes bright and dancing with amusement. “I'm saying _yes_ , you absolute imbecile. I’ve been…in love with you, so to speak, for the past two years, and I, I...” he trails off uncertainly, glancing to the side, but there’s a light dusting of pink across the milky paleness of his cheekbones.

 

 _God, he’s adorable,_ and there goes the last shreds of Zen’s rational mind, if he can even think such sappy crap without reflexively shrivelling up in embarrassment.

 

Only one thing left to do.

 

He catches Jumin by the lapels of his suit, tugging him closer until their lips brush. The kiss is shorter and much less racy than the one five minutes ago, but they’re both breathing hard when he pulls away.

 

“What do you say we continue this somewhere more...private,” Jumin murmurs, leaning over so his lips trace the shell of Zen’s ear.

 

Zen hums agreeably, letting go of Jumin briefly to push the button for the lift and flipping Seven off with his free hand when he hears a shutter click in the background. He can’t really bring himself to care though, not now.

 

“My place or yours?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> aaaagh im sorry for the wait! if anything this chapter's like 3.7k which makes it the longest thing ive written besides school essays (thats kinda pathetic lol) 
> 
> anyways im just going to double update with the epilogue cos ive had that written since forever and i feel bad making u guys wait,,,,


	10. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just another day in the RFA

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> last chapter. hope its sufficiently sappy and heartwarming  
> thanks for everything, you guys!

[07:07] **THEYRE DATING…. FUR-REAL**

 **707** _has joined the chat_

 **707** _[Attached an image]_

 **707:** ITS OFFICIAL

 **707:** ZEN DOESNT LIKE PUSSIES AFTERALL,,, ;3 ;0

 **707:** I CALLED IT

 **707:** FInaLLY

 **707:** I ALWAYS KNE W

 **707:** SINCE THE TWI OF THEHM ME T FOr teHE FIRST TIME AT TTHE PART Y

 **707:** SINCE THEN

 **707:** HTE SEEDS OF LOVE

 **V** _has joined the chat_

 **707:** WERE PLANTE d

 **707:** AND FIVE YEArS LATER

 **707:** THEY HAVE BEGUN TO BLOSSOM

 **707:** IM SO GLAD THIS GAME OF

 **707:** CAT AND MOUSE

 **707:** IS FINALLY OVER

 **Yoosung★** _has joined the chat_

 **Yoosung★:** Does Jumin Han is gay

 **Yoosung★:** What were those reporters thinking??

 **Yoosung★: @ZEN @Jumin Han** I'm so happy for u two!!!!

 **Yoosung★: @707** ew please control urself

 **Yoosung★:** ………….!!!

 **Yoosung★:** Wait…

 **Yoosung★:** So Jaehee has her work and Seven has his cars and 2D waifus

 **707:** (and husbands)

 **707:** (and my hot maid)

 **707:** (im getting more action that u think fella$)

 **707:** (ALSO **@V** U OWE ME MONEY!!!!!)

 **Yoosung★:** (Shhhh let me finish my sentence!)

 **707:** (oh yeah keep going sorry)

 **707:** (i got sidetracked)

 **Yoosung★:** (Np lol)

 **Yoosung★:** BUT WHAT ABOUT ME

 **Yoosung★:** I’LL NEVER GET A GIRLFRIEND

 **Yoosung★:** _[crying]_

 **Yoosung★:** AM I THE ONLY FOREVER ALONE IN THE RFA

 **707:** i guess you'll have the animals with u once u become a vet

 **707:** #fureveralone #whatacatastrophe #itsadogslife

 **Yoosung★:** ,,,,,

 **Yoosung★:** (‘◉⌓◉’)

 **Yoosung★:** ur right

 **ZEN** _has joined the chat_

 **V: @Yoosung★** How’s school?

 **V: @Jumin Han @ZEN** Congratulations!

 **V: @707** Haha I'll see what I can do

 **V:** I'm glad everyone’s made heads or tails of the situation by now.

 **707:** i knew u had it in u

 **Jumin Han**   _has joined the chat_

 **Yoosung★:** ….

 **Jaehee Kang** _has joined the chat_

 **ZEN:** …?:?2?!1!2!2!

 **707:** what's wrong zen

 **707:** cat got ur tongue?

 **ZEN:** THAT MADE ME SNEEZE U ASSHOLE

 **ZEN:** WHO SAID ANYTHING ABOUT BEING TOGETHER HUH

 **ZEN:** YOU FUCKING PUNK **@707**

 **ZEN:** WHY IS **@V** CAUGHT UP IN THIS TOO WHAT

 **707:** dude jaehee and i were literally there yesterday when u guys kissed passionately infront of jumin's dad

 **707:** AND his dad’s girlfriend AND jumin's fiancée

 **707:** so like, everyone already knew anyways

 **707:** one could even say

 **707:** the cat came out of the bag ages ago,,,,,,

 **707:** just like u

 **ZEN:** AAAAAAGH h

 **707:** rather it wasn't even in the bag in the first place

 **Yoosung★:** ooooOoOh

 **Jumin Han:** Stop yelling in my ear Zen, you’re too loud

 **Jumin Han:** It's too early for this

 **ZEN:** Wait so

 **ZEN:** Am I the only one who didn't know I actually liked Jumin until yesterday???

 **Jaehee Kang:** Yes

 **707:** ya p much

 **Jumin Han:** No, I wasn’t aware either…

 **707:** why'd u think i got u a job with c&r

 **707:** and jaehee proposed the idea of u two staying together

 **707:** and v kept sending those cryptic love horoscopes

 **V:** Guilty.

 **V** _has left the chat_  

 **ZEN:** …Did he really wait around for that long just to say that…

 **Yoosung★:** Wait! I didn't know about this either!

 **Yoosung★:** TT-TT now I feel so left out

 **707:** yoosung, honey

 **707:** hate to break it to u but ur literally the most oblivious person this side of korea

 **707:** the signs were all there

 **707:** u just didn't see em

 **Yoosung★:** OTL

 **Yoosung★:** I WAS  B L IND

 **Jaehee Kang:** …

 **Jaehee Kang: @ZEN** As a fan,  I’m opposed to this relationship. 

**Yoosung★:** _[shocked]_

 **707:** that's impawssible!!! >:3

 **Jaehee Kang:** The very nature of your profession is to be the unattainable icon of perfection, loved and pursued by many but owned by none; the untouchability is what makes you so coveted and appealing.

 **Jaehee Kang:** Therefore, any...romantic involvement could adversely affect your standing in the industry, especially with those crazy fans and antis looking for every opportunity to bring you down and discredit your talent.

 **Jaehee Kang:** Zen, the idol, should not date. As a fan, there's no question that  I'm opposed to it. 

**Yoosung★:** eh???

 **Yoosung★:** (´⊙ω⊙`?) WHATS h a p p eni n g

 **Jaehee Kang:** But Zen, the person -  you have every right to happiness. 

**Jaehee Kang:** As a friend, I wish you two all the best.

 **Jaehee Kang:** _[smile]_

 **Jaehee Kang:** Also could you please tell Mr Han that I've cancelled the 9.30AM meeting with our Chinese partners?

 **Jaehee Kang:** The company is in no state to be undergoing business dealings.

 **Jaehee Kang:** Do you have any idea how much damage control I had to do?

 **Jaehee Kang:** I shouldn’t be complaining since it is after all my job, but if I have to answer one more phone call from the press inquiring about a  ‘Firey and passionate whirlwind office romance’  , I think I might have to carve my ears out.

 **707:** ……….,,,,,,,,

 **707:** that was the most beautiful thing i have ever read with my own two eyes and u had to go and ruin it

 **707:** but still, now everyone owes me money  except  jaehee

 **707:** pay up suckers

 **ZEN:** …

 **707:** including u zen

 **707:** wheres my 50% cut huh

 **707:** tell ur boifriend he owes me too plus interest

 **ZEN: @Jaehee Kang** ...Thank you

 **ZEN:** That really means a lot to me…

 **ZEN:** _[smile]_

 **ZEN: @707** oh my god leave me alone

 **Jumin Han:** Assistant Kang

 **Jumin Han:** I don't think I've said this enough

 **Jumin Han:** But thank you for your hard work, as always

 **Yoosung★:** Ahhhhhh \\(//∇//)\

 **Yoosung★:** I LOVE YOU GUYS SO MUCH!!!!(´；ω；`)

 **Yoosung★:** <3333333

 **Yoosung★:** I don't need a girlfriend if I have the RFA!! (๑╹ω╹๑ )♡

 **707:** u better not be kitten around w me

 **707:** pls get one

 **Jaehee Kang:** Agreed.

 **ZEN:** ya

 **ZEN:** Jumin told me to tell you he says yes too

 **Yoosung★:** _[crying]_

 **Yoosung★:** I thought we were all single except Jumin-hyung and Zen-hyung

 **707:** actually i have my JOB

 **707:** and my RIGHT HAND

 **707:** unless either of u is willing to share  ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°) **@Jumin Han @ZEN**

 **707:** or not, im not too picky ;)

 **707** _was removed from the chat_

 **Jaehee Kang:** Die.

 **707** _has joined the chat_

 **707:** you cant do that!!!! i own this chat!!!!

 **Jaehee Kang:** Please stop flirting with my boss and his boyfriend,,,

 **707:** but

 **707:** ur boss is #1 cat daddy

 **707** _was removed from the chat_

 **Yoosung★:** Oh my god

 **Jumin Han:** He’s not wrong

 **Jumin Han:** _[cat]_

 **Yoosung★:** Oh my god

 **707** _has joined the chat_

 **707:** whyyyyy

 **707:** it's a perfectly valid suggestion!!!!

 **Yoosung★:** *purrfectly

 **707:** we’re all good looking twenty-something-year-old men afterall

 **707:** stop kicking meow-t of here (*TωT*)

 **707:** lol **@Yoosung★** good one

 **Yoosung** ★ **:** Thanks! owo

 **707:** _[whining]_

 **707:** anyways it was worth a shot

 **Jaehee Kang:** Back on topic, **@Yoosung★** I suppose we aren't as single as you thought…

 **Jaehee Kang:** Luciel is a lost cause, though.

 **707:** oof

 **707:** that was out of fe-line

 **707:** jaehee, 1 - seven, 0

 **ZEN:** Hit ‘em where it hurts

 **Jaehee Kang: @707** Don’t give me that kind of cat-titude

 **707:** ….jaehee, 99 - seven, 0

 **Jaehee Kang:** That’s better.

 **Yoosung★:** YOU TOO JAEHEE????

 **Jaehee Kang:** ,,,,,,

 **707:** is it that girl the coffee one

 **707:** (she's cute, 9.5/10)

 **707:** (still not as cute as me tho)

 **ZEN:** (I thought I was the narcissistic one here)

 **707:** (shut up and let me have this dude)

 **707:** (also u didnt answer my,,,proposition,,,dont leave me hanging man do i look like schrodingers cat to u)

 **Jaehee Kang: @707** (I don’t think Schrodinger’s Cat works like that…)

 **Yoosung★:** (Why’re we talking like this?)

 **Jumin Han:** (I am not sure either…)

 **707:** u asked her out?!?

 **707:** didnt kno u were that sm00th

 **Jaehee Kang:** I wasn't going to do anything!

 **Jaehee Kang:** Then I realised she works at the cafe near the office and her shifts happen to coincide with my working hours.

 **Jaehee Kang:** And once she started a conversation, we realised we had a lot in common, so things sort of went from there…

 **707:**...u r sm00th and hard to get

 **707:** like my honey butta chips

 **707:** hahahahahah

 **707:** my entire life has led up to this mewment

 **707** _was removed from the chat_

 **707** _has joined the chat_

 **707:** STOP KICKING ME OUT JUST AS IM GAINING MEWMENTUM

 **707:** haha mewmentum

 **707:** issac mewton would be so proud

 **Jaehee Kang:** FOR THE LOVE OF GOD

 **707:** doNT YOU BRING GOD INTO THIS IM CATHOLIC

 **707:** ,,..... cat..,,,,holic

 **707:** BUT ANYWAYS

 **707:** IVE HAD E-NYA-OUGH OF THIS TREATMENT!!!!!!

 **Jaehee Kang:** STOP COMING BACK THEN

 **Jaehee Kang:** _[angry]_

 **Jumin Han:** Hahaha

 **Jumin Han: @707** Stay paw-sitive :3

 **Jumin Han:** By the way, Assistant Kang, you still have 2 weeks of leave to clear.

 **Jumin Han:** I can approve it if you'd like some time to yourself.

 **Jaehee Kang:** …...That would be great

 **Jaehee Kang:** I'll get the paperwork in order

 **Jumin Han:** No problem (=^ェ^=)

 **Jumin Han:** (It is a cat)

 **Jumin Han:** (The cat is smiling because it's happy.)

 **Jaehee Kang:** Thank you, Mr Han

 **Jaehee Kang:** _[smile]_

 **707:** omg that gave me a heart boner

 **Yoosung★:** Awwwwww!!!

 **Jaehee Kang** _has left the chat_

 **707:** ugh

 **707:** well i don't want to intrude on ur disgusting couple stuff **@ZEN @Jumin Han**

 **ZEN:** You're just jealous I'm getting more action that you

 **Yoosung★: @707** That didn't stop you from bringing it up in the first place,,,

 **707:** kid’s got a point…

 **707:** (☝︎ ՞ਊ ՞)☝︎

 **ZEN:** Go away

 **707:** yeah yeah

 **707:** go cuddle up together or whatever

 **707:** u hopeless fools

 **707** _has left the chat_

 **Yoosung★:** I should get going too

 ****Yoosung★:** ** LOLOL WAITS FOR NO MAN 

 **Yoosung★:** Congratulations! I'm happy for u two (*´∀｀*)

 **Yoosung★:** bye dads ;>

 **Yoosung★** _has left the chat_

 

* * *

 

“ _Dad?_ I'm only twenty-six!”

 

“Huh. And I'm a _daddy_ apparently,” Jumin notes ponderously, absently tugging Zen closer.

 

“Holy shit, _please_ don't say that again,” Zen flushes, wriggling in the other's grip. “Now shut up and let me go to sleep. No decent person deserves to be awake this early on a Sunday morning. Explains why you're up, then." 

 

“ _You_ shut up and stop moving so much,” Jumin grumbles like the grumpy old man he secretly is, burying his face in Zen’s neck.

 

* * *

 

Zen’s phone pings softly as Jumin’s breathing begins to even out. He slides his thumb against the screen, revealing a stream of unread messages,

 

[07:42] **Yoosung★:** Seven told me to remind you to ‘package your meat’ before ‘feelin the heat’

[07:42] **Yoosung★:** Whatever that means (ᵔᴥᵔ)

 

[07:39] **707:** seriously tho

[07:39] **707:** remember to use protection, kids. STDs aren't a joke!!!

[07:40] **707:** ;0 ;0

 

[07:25] **Jaehee Kang:** I’ve attached an article as well as a link to a book that you might want to check out.

[07:25] **Jaehee Kang:** Please be careful, you two.

 

to which he rolls his eyes and sends off some texts, including a scathing reply to Seven. What a dick.

 

The last few, on the other hand, are rather unexpected.

 

[07:15] **V:** Zen, I’ve already said this in the group chat, but once again, congratulations! I’m really happy for you two.

[07:15] **V:** Since we were kids, Jumin didn't want to let anyone get close to him. I think, after what happened with his mother, he might have been afraid of opening his heart to other people.

[07:17] **V:** I know it's probably the same for you, despite the persona you like to put up. Which is why I hope you two can put aside your differences and support each other.

[07:18] **V:** No one has a choice about who their family is, but that's alright. Because at the end of the day, it's the people you choose yourself that matter the most.

[07:19] **V:** And I'm glad you chose each other.

[07:19] **V:** P.S: Jumin is my best friend so if you do anything to hurt him…Let's just say Seven owes me a favour…

 

Shit, since when was V such a sap?

 

Zen can't deny the warmth that blooms in his chest, spreading through the rest of his limbs as his gaze settles on Jumin. The other man’s nose is scrunched up like some kind of overgrown cat, and he's let go of Zen to sprawl over the other half of the bed and some. Zen feels his lips quirk up, a smile creeping across his face, unbidden.

 

_I’m a lucky guy, aren't I?_

 

* * *

 

[07:52] **ZEN:** Yeah

[07:53]: **ZEN:** Me too

 

…

…

_end_

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> uwu forgot to mention mc makes a lil cameo here,,,,she was coffee-prince all along,,,jaehee/mc coffee shop au hell yeah 
> 
> remember when i said i'd thank you guys properly for all the kind words! the time has come: 
> 
> thanks so much to humangousflop, Lindia+Harmony, Kusuki, ari, kitsune_anna and YourGaygerBoi in particular for reminding me to jam in as many cat puns as i could in this chapter. (guys i have no idea how to link y'all's accounts im sorry!!) 
> 
> And of course, to everyone who's taken their time to read, subscribe, bookmark (whatever it is the kids do nowadays) and leave kudos. It's been one hell of a ride for me considering its literally the second fic i've posted on ao3 hahaha. pls continue to give mm lots of love and if anyone's interested i may or may not be starting a bnha fic soon *eye emojis*


End file.
